


For a Good Time Call

by atetheredmind (s_e_irvine)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 18:12:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_e_irvine/pseuds/atetheredmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a bathroom stall door is the last place Katniss ever thought she'd see Peeta Mellark's name again. Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reintroduction

"Ugh."

It doesn't matter how many times Katniss uses the bathroom at Sae's, a hole-in-the-wall bar in her hometown of Panem, she can't fight the involuntary grimace when she enters the stall. A very distinct  _toilet_ smell assaults her every time, and somebody almost always trickles urine on the seat. As much as she appreciates the well-worn feel of the bar, she wishes it didn't extend to the bathrooms, as well.

Wrinkling her nose, Katniss generously wads up about three feet of toilet paper to wipe off the seat. Then, hastily depositing the used tissue into the toilet, she pulls down her pants and hovers precariously over the seat, about two inches, so she doesn't accidentally graze the questionably stained porcelain while peeing.

As she empties her bladder, she entertains herself by reading the graffiti that's accumulated on the stall door over the years. It's epithets and exclamations she's all read before, memorized even— _LJ + TM = 4ever_ ,  _Ur boyfriend gives good head_ ,  _Go Mockingjays!_ and of course the requisite penis illustration—but a new addition just above the door latch, scribbled sloppily in blue ink, catches her eye.

_For the best sex of your life:_  
 _Call Peeta Mellark_  
 _722-1563_

She's so taken aback, she forgets where she's at and collapses on the toilet seat as her legs give out. Her surprised gasp morphs into a disgusted groan, and she quickly hikes herself back up to finish, wipes herself off and yanks her pants up. After she flushes, though, she lingers, staring at the door, at that familiar name.

Peeta Mellark. She never thought she'd hear that name again.

Shaking her head, she whips out her phone and snaps a photo, for prosperity's sake. And to show her friend, Madge, who might also remember him.

Katniss strolls out of the bathroom after diligently scrubbing her hands, heading for the booth in the far right corner where Madge and their other friend, Johanna, sit. They look up at her as she approaches.

"Look what I found in the bathroom stall." Sliding into the booth, Katniss flips her phone around to show her friends the photo she snapped just a moment ago, inexplicably excited about her find.

"If this is another butt plug like last time, I don't wanna see," Madge groans, but Johanna snatches the phone out of Katniss' hand to examine the picture.

"For the best sex of your life...Peeta Mellark...722-1563," she recites, squinting at the screen before tossing the phone back to Katniss disinterestedly. "Funny."

But Madge frowns, snatching the phone bacl. "Wait a minute. Peeta Mellark..." She purses her lips as she studies the phone, tapping her finger against her chin. "Didn't we go to school with him?" she asks Katniss.

Katniss nods, smirking wryly. "Yeah, high school."

Madge eyes her suspiciously. "Didn't you have a crush on him?"

Her friend's unexpected question slaps the smugness right off Katniss' face. She blanches, rearing back in her seat. "No! What are you talking about?" she balks.

"I swear I thought you did..."

Suddenly, Johanna is intrigued again, and she grins wickedly. " _Oh ho_ , let me see that again," she demands, taking the phone back. Katniss has a sinking feeling in her gut as her friend grins at the phone and then at her. "Crush, huh?"

"No!" Katniss exclaims emphatically. "No, I just remembered his name from school! I thought Madge would get a kick out of it!"

"Still...you remembered his name. It sounds like you were intrigued." Huffing, Katniss rolls her eyes at Johanna, who prods with a sinister glint in her brown eyes, "You should call him."

Katniss scowls. "I'm not going to call him."

"Text him, then."

"And say what?  _Hey, I saw your number in a bathroom, wanna have sex?_ " Katniss says dryly, eliciting a laugh from Madge, but Johanna shrugs.

"Yeah, sounds good to me."

"No."

Johanna pouts at her, her fingers tapping idly on Katniss' iPhone case. "Well, at least share it on Facebook, so someone else can have a shot."

Her friend is incorrigible. "That's gross. I'm not going to be responsible for getting him harassed by horny, sex-starved women," Katniss says, distracted by the appearance of the server who asks if she wants another beer. Katniss hems and haws her way through her order before settling on a draft selection and then looks back at Johanna. Her eyes bulge when she realizes her friend is typing furiously on her phone. "Oh my god—what are you doing?!" she shrieks, prying her phone out of the other woman's hands.

Johanna laughs. "Too late."

Katniss gapes helplessly at her phone as she reads the text Johanna just sent to supposed-Peeta's number, attached with the photo Katniss took:  _Best sex huh? Can I verify this claim?_

"Oh my god, Johanna,  _you shit_ ," she hisses, shooting her friend an evil glare. She taps vainly on the text, trying to figure out a way to stop it, but her heart drops when she hears the familiar  _bloop_ alert and sees the "Delivered" stamp at the bottom.

"Jo, you didn't really..." Madge admonishes, staring at her wide-eyed. The brown-haired woman just shrugs as she sips her whiskey.

"Lighten up, you guys. It's probably a fake number anyway."

As if to prove her wrong, Katniss' phone lights up with a text:  _Who is this?_

Katniss blanches. "Oh fuck, he responded. Johanna, I'm going to kill you!"

Johanna is unperturbed, shrugging once again as she smiles. "He'll probably think it's funny. It's not like it says to call him for the  _worst_  sex of your life."

Groaning, Katniss debates how to respond—if she should at all. Finally, she settles on:  _I'm really sorry, my friend sent that as a joke. Sorry to bother you!_

She hopes that will be the end of it, but a response text pops up almost immediately:  _Who is this?_ Shit. He's not going to let it go. With another inward groan, she sets her phone down to ignore his question and eagerly grabs the beer when the server returns before she can even set it down on the table. She takes a healthy gulp and then glares at Johanna again.

"You are the worst. I don't know why I hang out with you sometimes," she grouses. Her phone starts ringing, and she freezes. It's the same number. "Shit."

Johanna cackles. "What are you waiting for? Answer it!"

Katniss looks horrified. "You can't be serious."

But even Madge is smiling. "Just answer it. It's Peeta—if I remember correctly, he's the type of guy who will just laugh it off."

Covering her face, Katniss muffles her whine. Her phone keeps ringing. With a defeated sigh, she picks her phone up and answers it. "Hello?" she asks nervously, wincing.

"Who is this?" The voice on the other end is deeper, more melodic than she remembers, but she recognizes it all the same. And there is a distinct edge of annoyance to it. Her eyes widen, and she's momentarily rendered stupid. She doesn't recall seeing Peeta Mellark annoyed even once in high school, and somehow she's managed to do it despite having not seen him in six years.

"Where was this picture taken?" he demands, more firmly this time, and she blinks as she comes to her senses. She shoots her friends a helpless look, who are watching her expectantly.

"Um...I—I'm so sorry, I swear my friend was just fucking with me, and she thought it would be funny to send that to you. Seriously, I'm going to make her pay for it later, don't worry," Katniss rambles, her glare earning a good-natured middle finger from said friend.

"Okay, but that's still a real picture, right? Meaning my name and number are up somewhere in some seedy bathroom somewhere?" he asks, though it's not so much a question.

Katniss furrows her brow, chewing the corner of her lip worriedly. "Well...yes. But I wouldn't exactly call this place  _seedy_ ," she offers as if it's some kind of consolation. Sae's isn't the fanciest joint in Panem, and the bathrooms might be gross, but she takes pride in the place.

"And what is this place  _exactly_?" he asks, his demanding tone lightened by a surprisingly droll lilt.

"Um...it's this bar called Sae's, it's in—"

"Panem," he finishes for her. "I know it. I'll be there shortly."

He disconnects the call there, and she pulls her phone away from her ear, staring at it.

"Well, what happened?!" Madge grills, leaning closer over the table.

Katniss makes a face. "Apparently he's coming here?" she says uncertainly, setting her phone down.

Johanna snorts in amusement. "To give you the best sex of your life?"

Katniss' eyes snap to her friend in another heated glare. "No, he sounds  _pissed_ , Jo. Thanks for your help in all this, by the way."

"Well, either way, maybe this will liven up the place," Johanna muses as she examines the half-empty bar.

"Are you  _sure_  you didn't have a crush on him?" Madge interjects offhandedly, narrowing her eyes at Katniss, who flushes.

"No, I did not! He was a nice guy, but that's it. I didn't know him, and I never even spoke to him." Which isn't exactly true. He handed her her pencil one time when she dropped it in English class, and she mumbled an embarrassed thank you under the intense gaze of his blue eyes. But that was the extent of her interactions with the popular, well-liked school wrestling champion who was way too cool to notice someone as inconsequential as her. It's hardly worth mentioning, even though she played that moment over in her head every night before she went to bed the rest of the school year. But that's still not something ludicrous like a  _crush_.

"He was pretty cute, too," Madge adds thoughtfully. Katniss flushes again and shoves her beer bottle in her mouth to sip—and hopefully conceal her blush. She could barely admit to herself how often she fantasized about Peeta Mellark in school—damn if she's going to own up to it now.

"Whatever, he sounds like he's going to come yell at me or maybe burn the place down, so I think it's time to go," she insists before chugging the rest of her beer as fast as she can. It's too much, and she ends up coughing and sputtering as some dribbles down her chin, then she finishes it off.

Johanna sighs. "Man, you don't want us to have any fun." But she waves to the server anyway, trying to get her attention.

The server is busy tending to other patrons, however, and after a few minutes of agonized waiting, Katniss begins bouncing her knee anxiously, her eyes darting to the entrance frequently. Maybe he won't come, she tries to reassure herself, ignoring the part buried way deep inside her that kind of wishes he would.

Her body tenses when the door suddenly swings open, a familiar crop of wavy blond hair appearing. He's only a little taller than she remembers, but broader in the shoulders and chest. Much broader. His face is just as beautiful, more chiseled though, and his eyes are as hauntingly blue as she remembers, even from a distance.

Her breath stalls in her throat as those eyes survey the bar, and she only releases it when he heads in the direction of the bar. He didn't see her. Or maybe he just doesn't remember her—much more likely.

How did he get here so fast? Does he still live in Panem? It seems absurd, someone like him sticking around this podunk town. Katniss is pretty sure she's the only person from their graduating class who stayed around; Madge is only visiting her, Johanna too, but she only met the latter in college.

"He's here," Katniss whispers stiffly, her eyes darting between him and her friends, who follow her line of sight. Johanna's face brightens as her attention lands on him.

" _That's_  Peeta Mellark?" she asks appreciatively. "I'm starting to believe his bathroom endorsement now."

"I don't know," Madge says doubtfully, a teasing smile on her lips. "Sometimes it's the pretty guys who are the worst in bed."

Inexplicably, Katniss feels defensive of Peeta. "I'm sure he's more than adequate," she argues. Johanna's mouth curls into a grin.

"So you've thought about it, huh?"

Katniss seethes, her face turning red, and her eyes flit back in his direction involuntarily. He's leaning against the bar, talking to the bartender and gesturing in the direction of the bathroom.

"Maybe you should go talk to him?" Madge offers. "He might be reassured once he knows who you are. You were pretty harmless in school."

Katniss shoots her a dubious look. "Thanks for that backhanded compliment." Her friend just shrugs, and Katniss turns her attention back to Peeta, who's now waiting quietly while the bartender scopes out the bathroom. "Fine. I'll just tell him it was me, he can think I'm a weirdo, and that'll be the end of it, whatever," she grumbles, standing up from the booth. Tugging on her jacket sleeves, she walks haltingly toward him. His back is to her, and she summons the courage to tap him on the shoulder, holding her breath as he turns around.

She's expecting confusion, a blank expression of indifference even—she's not expecting the look of shock, which she's pretty sure mirrors her own from when she first saw his name on the bathroom stall.

"Katniss?"

The sound of her name leaving his lips stuns her, and she almost forgets why she came over here. "I—you know who I am?" she asks stupidly, and he blinks, confusion finally creasing his brow.

"Well, yeah—wait, are you the one who texted me?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh—yea—no, I mean, no! I mean,  _not exactly_." She cringes and gestures to her friends, who are watching them raptly. "My friend Johanna texted you, from my phone. Initially. I was the one who responded to you..."

He's just staring at her strangely, probably thinking about what a freak she is. She continues, "Anyway, I'm really sorry for the trouble. I just wanted to..." Do what, exactly? Say hi? To someone who barely knows her? "Well, I don't know, I guess I just wanted you to know who it was you were talking to so you know I'm not some creep or something. Which you probably think anyway," she laughs awkwardly.

He blinks again, the bizarre contortion of his face breaking, and he shakes his head. "Oh—no, I don't. Think that. Sorry. I'm just...surprised to see you here. I'm surprised it was you, I guess. I had no idea you were still around here..." he trails off, and she fidgets with her braid.

"Uh, yeah. Came back after college a couple years ago."

"Me too. Well, after business school. Took over my family's bakery."

"Oh." She makes a face to herself and laughs at her own ignorance. "Oh, of course. Right, that makes sense."

He's still staring at her strangely, but the bartender returns then. "Okay, I took care of it. I'm sorry about that, sir," she tells him, pouring a beer from the tap and sliding it to him. "On the house."

"Oh, thanks. I appreciate it," he says, taking the beer. Katniss is ready to slink back off to her friends, but Peeta turns back to her. "And I guess thank you for letting me know my services were being advertised all over Panem," he says with a wry smile, but she blushes in mortification.

"I swear I wasn't propositioning you, it was Johanna—"

He chuckles, waving her off. "I believe you. It's okay. I could barely get you to look at me in high school—I doubt you've changed that much that you're soliciting sex from strange men now."

She's dumbfounded— _I could barely get you to look at me_. What does that even mean? Her mouth parts wordlessly a few times before she can find a response. "Well...you're hardly a strange man," she says.

He laughs quietly. "I guess. Well, don't let the ad fool you. I think my reputation might have been greatly exaggerated," he protests self-deprecatingly with a slight grimace, taking a sip of his beer.

She's sure her cheeks are going to be stained permanently red as she mentally debates his bedroom credentials. "Apparently someone thinks highly enough of you," she rebuts, glancing away when he looks back at her.

"Well, thanks for letting me know—or tell your friend I said thanks, whoever deserves the credit," he jokes. "As you can imagine I don't exactly want my number plastered all over bathrooms around town."

She laughs softly. "Right, I'm sure it would be awkward for your girlfriend."

He regards her bizarrely,  _again_ , narrowing his eyes just barely. "I don't have a girlfriend," he says humorously, and she flushes, realizing that probably sounded like a come-on, like she's fishing for information on his relationship status. And she realizes that's exactly what she's doing. "I was speaking as a businessman more concerned about my bakery's family-friendly reputation."

"Oh. Right. Ha, of course." She wants to die—but first she wants to murder Johanna. "Uh, well, I should probably get back—"

"Katniss," Peeta interrupts her, an urgent look on his face. Her feet stop moving in the direction of her table, and she stares at him expectantly. He suddenly looks nervous, scrubbing a hand through his curls, but then he gestures to the bar, a small lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Katniss is so wholly unprepared for such a question that it takes him repeating the question a second time for her to process what he's asking her. And then she does the only thing she knows how.

"I—I can't."

She bolts.

 


	2. Reacquaintance

Growing up, Katniss couldn't count the number of times she walked by the Mellark bakery, just to sneak a glimpse of Peeta, but she never had the guts to go in. At the time she told herself it was just to admire the lovely cake displays, which she eventually learned were crafted by Peeta's hands, but she could at least admit it to herself now, her true motives.

Today, as she purposefully approaches the Mellark bakery, she finally does have the courage, taking a deep breath to steel herself and swinging the door open before she can inadvertently catch sight of him and lose her nerve. The aroma of yeast and butter and cinnamon greet her, and she takes a deep breath, halting only a few short steps into the bakery. And that's when she sees him, at the counter helping a customer.

He looks up, pausing mid-sentence as a flicker of surprise crosses his face, then he gives her a small, polite smile before resuming his conversation with the customer after a quick apology. Katniss shoves her hands into her coat pockets and pretends to peruse the selection of pastries on display while she waits for the customer to leave. The bell chimes a moment later, signaling that she and Peeta are finally alone, but she doesn't turn around just yet.

Stupidly, she hasn't quite worked out what to say to him. Because she's not entirely sure how he's going to react to her being here, after she shot him down at Sae's the other night. He looked so disappointed when she rejected his offer to buy her a drink, but she was just so shocked and flustered when he asked—and scared, if she's being honest with herself—all she could think to do was run back to her friends and scurry out of the bar.

Johanna and Madge gave her so much shit after ( _"He was asking you out on a date, brainless!"_ as Johanna so kindly put it). And even Katniss berated herself later as she tried to fall asleep. Because why in the world wouldn't she want to have a drink with Peeta fucking Mellark?

She's an idiot.

So here she is now, trying to...she's not sure what exactly, but she knows she can't leave it like she left it two nights ago.

She doesn't know how long she's been staring at the cinnamon rolls when she finally hears him speak. "Did you find my work address in a bathroom too?" he asks, and she whirls around, her eyes wide.

"No, you said—you mentioned you took over the bakery, and—I mean, I grew up here, I know where everything is," she says defensively, but he's smiling at her.

"I'm kidding, Katniss," he assures her, coming out from behind the counter to walk toward her. She clamps her mouth shut as she surreptitiously takes him in, with his flour-streaked gray slacks and white t-shirt stretched wide across his chest and shoulders underneath his dirty apron. His arms are lightly dusted in flour too, and her traitor eyes follow a prominent vein from his wrist to his elbow before she can force herself to look at his face. He stops by the display case she's standing in front of, his eyebrows raised. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh," she untucks her hands out of her pockets to brush some hair out of her face. "I was just...on my lunch break, and I thought I'd...come get something to eat," she finishes lamely, gesturing to the displays. Never mind the fact that she's never eaten here before in her life.

He nods anyway and wipes his hands on his apron, accepting her excuse. "What would you like?" he asks, all professional, and she catches her braid between her fingers to fidget with it absently. She can't stay still for some reason. It's like her entire body is vibrating.

"Um, I'm not really sure. What do you recommend?"

Peeta tips his head in the direction of the cinnamon rolls. "Well, you look like you were trying to communicate telepathically with those rolls just a moment ago, so I'd probably start with one of those if I were you."

Katniss laughs softly, tucking her chin against her chest. "Um, yeah, they look really good. I guess I'll have one of those," she says, and he nods with a smile, circling back around the counter to get to the other side of the case of cinnamon rolls. "I guess it's not a particularly healthy lunch though. Do you happen to have any salads or anything?" she asks jokingly, and he chuckles, pausing to brace his arms against the top of the display case.

"Not exactly. We've got some pastry puffs filled with feta cheese and spinach, if you think that fits your green leaf quota."

"Yeah, I might feel a little better about my life choices if you include one of those," she says, and he grins as he carefully selects a cinnamon roll and a pastry puff for her, wraps them, and bags them. Her stomach flutters slightly as she watches him, and she grips the strap of her messenger bag just to give her hands something to hold onto.

"So, where do you work?" he asks conversationally as he moves toward the register, and she follows.

"I'm an engineer with the town," she replies, and he lifts his eyebrows at her.

"Oh, wow. That's awesome. I mean, I always knew you were smart, but I didn't know you were going into engineering."

She flushes, averting her eyes. "The qualifications for the position weren't really that strenuous," she demurs and immediately wants to smack herself. She knows damn well that's not true, how hard she's worked for her degree and her job. She has no idea why she's suddenly so modest about her achievements in front of him.

Peeta shakes his head. "I'm sure you earned it."

Embarrassed and annoyed with herself, Katniss opens her bag on her hip and fishes for her wallet. "How much do I owe you?" she asks, but he just pushes the brown paper bag toward her.

"Nothing, it's on the house."

She stares at him then shakes her head adamantly. "No. I can pay for them."

He laughs. "With your fancy engineering job, I don't doubt that. But don't worry about it. Consider it thanks for the other night, since you wouldn't let me buy you a drink."

Her eyes go wide, and she's sure she's blushing all the way to the roots of her hair. His expression isn't bitter, so she thinks he's only teasing her,  _again_ , but she still wants to smack herself for turning him down. She is 24 years old—where's all the college-fortified bravado she built up over the last six years? Ashes in the face of an old high school crush, apparently.

Snapping her bag closed, Katniss edges closer to the counter to grab the pastries. "Thank you, Peeta," she says softly, clutching the bag to her chest. It's warm. "I guess I should get back to work..."

Peeta nods. "Sure. You're welcome to come back anytime, Katniss."

She turns around to leave, her metaphorical tail tucked between her legs, but she gets a whiff of the cinnamon roll in her bag, and she stops. Screwing up her courage once more, she faces him again. He's watching her quizzically, and she takes a step back toward him. "Peeta..." she starts, faltering slightly. "Maybe I can get that drink for you sometime. If you're still interested."

Surprise contorts his face, but then he smiles, a pleased dimple creasing his cheek. "Yeah. I am, very interested."

* * *

Katniss drums her fingers on the table anxiously as she waits for Peeta. He agreed to meet her tonight at Sae's, but either she got here too early or he's late because she's been waiting almost 15 minutes for him, her beer nearly half-empty in an attempt to calm her growing agitation.

She's just about ready to call it a wash, assuming he's stood her up, when he bursts through the door, his cheeks ruddy and his hair unkempt and wind-swept, like he just ran all the way across town from the bakery. She should be annoyed that he's so late, but instead the amount of relief that pools in her stomach at the sight of him scares her. She waves with a tentative smile when he spots her.

He jogs toward her and collapses in the booth opposite her. "I am  _so_ sorry I'm late. There was a flour accident in the back right as I was closing, which seriously  _never_  happens, so I think the universe is screwing with me right now."

She raises her eyebrow. "A flour accident? I hope no cinnamon roll was injured."

Peeta laughs, shaking his head. "Luckily, every roll survived. I hope you haven't been waiting long. I'm sorry. I would have texted you, but since technically it was your friend who gave me your number and not  _you_ , I didn't know if it was allowed," he explains sheepishly.

"Oh. It's okay to text me," she tries to say nonchalantly and adds hastily, "It would have been better than thinking I'd been stood up."

He looks flummoxed by this. "Why would I stand you up?"

She blinks as she processes the sincerity of his question. "Well—I guess it could be payback for shooting you down the other night," she says wryly, picking at the corner of the label on her bottle of beer.

Shaking his head, he grins at her—just one corner curls up. "After 20 years, there was no way I was missing this," he replies, but the server interrupts to take his drink order before Katniss can ask what the hell he means by that, and when he turns his attention back to her, he's already changing the subject. "So I gotta talk shop for a moment, forgive me, but how did you like your lunch the other day?"

She widens her eyes and takes a quick swig of her beer. "Oh, god, it was all amazing," she exclaims after she swallows. "I only eat the stuff from a can normally, but that cinnamon roll was probably the best thing I've ever eaten."

He smiles, but she thinks she sees his cheeks turn a light pink. "Well, thank you. I'm really happy you liked it that much. That was actually a family recipe I tweaked a little, so I'm glad you approve."

"I can see why you took over the bakery then. You're good at what you do," she says, averting her eyes.

"Thank you," he replies, ducking his head. "I enjoy what I do. I'm lucky my brothers didn't want to take over the family business, I guess." The server returns with his beer, and Peeta thanks her with a polite smile and takes a hearty sip from his pint.

"Um, what do your brothers do now? They still live around here too?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "No, they're scattered around the country. Rye's a graphic designer, and Barm's a pharmacist. I went to business school, and when my parents decided to retire early, I inherited the bakery."

Katniss furrows her brow. "I thought you were pretty big into art in high school," she says without thinking, catching him by surprise. She sees the way his eyes widen and winces internally. Shit, she's revealed too much.

"Oh, you—I didn't know you were, uh...I didn't know you even noticed me in high school," he says, sounding a little flustered, but he offers a gruff chuckle before swigging his beer.

She can't meet his eyes when she speaks, keeping them drilled on her beer bottle, "I noticed."

When she finally glances up, he's got his face turned away slightly so he's not looking at her, but there's a stupid smile on his face. "Well," he finally offers but not much else, then he clears his throat and focuses his attention on her, bypassing the awkward turn in their conversation. "How did you get into engineering?"

She shrugs, trying to act like her face isn't completely on fire. "I don't know. My dad was an engineer. It seemed interesting when I was growing up. And I like math. It's easy. Unchangeable. It's always the same. It's kind of comforting."

He's staring at her so intently as he listens, a vague smile on his face. It widens some once she finishes. "I think you've got a bit of a poet in you, too."

Katniss laughs and shakes her head. "Hardly. I'll leave the smooth talking to you." She can feel herself relaxing, despite her nervousness; he's easy to talk to.

He scoffs and slouches in his booth. "If you think this is smooth talking, just wait till I get a couple more beers in me."

That sounds like a challenge, one she is keen to accept. "Well, in that case." Throwing a small smirk his way, Katniss then twists in her seat to flag the server down.

* * *

The dart is pinched tightly between her thumb and forefinger, the point aligned with the board a couple yards in front of her. She keeps her elbow bent at a 90-degree angle as she aims, moistens her lips with her tongue, then she lets the dart fly from her hand. It nails the bullseye perfectly.

The loud groan to her left catches her attention, and Katniss angles her head to glance at Peeta.

" _Again_? That's the third time you've hit the bullseye in this game alone," he gripes in disbelief, shaking his head as he grudgingly marks down her score on the whiteboard.

Shrugging, she strides over to the dartboard to retrieve the three darts, then she returns to where Peeta's standing and hands them over to him. "I did mention I was kind of a boss at darts," she says easily, taking a sip of beer after she hops up on the table. She's lost track of how long they've been there. They must have spent at least two hours just talking and drinking before they migrated over to the darts section in the corner. This is her longest first date ever, and she kind of doesn't want it to end.

And she's not really sure when she started thinking of it as a date, but she's not eager to correct herself.

"I thought you were just trying to get into my head, psych me out," Peeta laments as he steps up to the toe line. He doesn't aim yet, turning to look at her. "How the hell did you get so good at darts, anyway?"

She kicks her legs, the three beers coursing through her making her feel relaxed and loose and warm. Or maybe it's just Peeta making her feel this way. "I spent a lot of time doubling as my friend Gale's DD when I was still too young to drink. So I found ways to entertain myself while everyone else got drunk."

He nods but then pauses, tilting his head as he eyes her curiously. "Your friend? Not...your  _ex-boyfriend_ Gale?" he asks.

Her face flinches in mild disgust and shock. " _What_? God no, Gale's my friend. A brother really," she denies emphatically.

He looks relieved, if not slightly confused. "Oh. Weird, I guess everyone thought you two were dating in high school..." he trails off as he turns back to the board and takes aim. His first dart only hits a 2, the second goes awry and sticks into the wall, and the third hits a 7. She laughs when he groans in disappointment, but her mind is stuck on what he just said.

She contemplates it as he retrieves the darts, and when he walks back toward her, she concedes, "I mean, I guess he  _maybe_ liked me at some point in high school." It makes her uncomfortable to think about, just like it did back then, though she did her best to ignore it in the interest of preserving their friendship.

Peeta laughs unexpectedly. "Well,  _that_ much was obvious."

She wrinkles her nose at him. "What does that mean?"

He raises an eyebrow, handing the darts to her. "All anyone had to do was look at you two to see it," he drawls as she hesitantly takes the darts. Scooping the dry-erase marker up, he leans around her to write his score down. She stiffens at his proximity; he's so close, she can feel his body heat. She thinks she can smell his cologne or deodorant or  _something;_ it's enticing.

"And...what were you doing looking at me?" she asks softly, boldly. His arm freezes. Slowly, he leans back to look her in the eye. He's still so close to her, closer, even; at this distance she can make out the smattering of freckles on his nose. His lips curve ever so slightly, and her eyes are riveted to the pink, kissable flesh until she forces her eyes up to his, the blue wells flecked with gold drawing her in.

"You were impossible to miss." His voice drops an octave, and everything inside her aches at the sound, but then he's pulling away, putting some distance between them. His smile widens as he takes a step back. "And you don't forget the face of the first girl to hit on you."

She recoils. "What?!" she barks. " _The first_ —what are you talking about?"

He laughs, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. "We were in the same preschool class. On the first day you told me I had pretty hair," he boasts proudly, rubbing a hand through his blond curls.

Her eyes are wide as she stares at him, heat pooling in her cheeks. "I don't remember that," she says uncertainly; she doesn't remember much from preschool. She didn't think she had any classes with him until high school, despite how small the town is. "Are you sure that was me?" she asks skeptically.

"Oh, yeah. It was definitely you. You had your hair in two braids back then though, not one."

Instinctively, Katniss' hand seeks out her braid to fidget with. She's seen pictures of herself in braided pigtails, at least. "Well...I guess at that point I had never seen blonde hair like yours before. My sister was born with a head full of black hair, and it didn't fall out for a while," she says defensively, sheepishly, then she looks at him strangely. "You have a remarkable memory."

He shakes his head. "Nah, I'm not even sure what I ate for breakfast yesterday," he dismisses as he gestures to the dartboard. "Can you put me out of my misery already, Everdeen?"

She does so, promptly. They don't leave for another hour, still, and even then she's reluctant to go. They linger outside the bar, dancing around awkward goodbyes, but when he learns that she walked to the bar, he's adamant about escorting her back to her apartment. She wants to argue that she's fine, that she's made the walk many nights on her own before, and actually she's a little indignant that he thinks she can't handle herself, but honestly, she can't bring herself to part from his company just yet. So she relents, and they fall into step side by side as they make the 10-minute trek to her apartment across town.

She's nervous as they walk, though the alcohol does a good job of keeping her anxiety at bay. But with him walking her back to her place, will he expect to come upstairs? Does he want her to invite him into her apartment? More importantly, does  _she_ want to invite him into her apartment?

She's not sure. It's too soon, isn't it? She can't be sure of what he wants, when she doesn't even know what  _she_  wants.

The warmth and thrills coursing through her body at the idea are a bit of a dead giveaway, though.

Still, when they pause outside her apartment complex, she has to shove her hands into her coat pockets just to do something with her fidgety hands, and she can't quite meet Peeta's eyes head-on as he surveys the area.

"Oh, this place isn't too far from where my friend Delly lives," he says offhandedly, turning to look down the street. "Yeah, about three blocks that way, in the Thirteenth district."

Katniss' curiosity and suspicion is piqued, and she raises her eyebrows. "Delly?" she asks, hedging the mounting jealousy out of her voice.

Peeta nods as he faces her again. "Yeah, do you remember her? Delly Cartwright, she went to high school with us too."

Her brow pinches as she tries to think. "Delly...oh, she was—did she have big blonde hair?" she asks as she waves a hand around her head. He chuckles.

"Yeah. An ill-advised perm, I think she calls it these days."

Katniss smiles slightly. She kind of recalls the cheerleader who used to hang out with Peeta a lot in high school. She bites her tongue so she doesn't ask him what Delly is to him these days.  _Friend_. That sounds innocent enough.

"Um, well..." she fishes uselessly for words.

"Ah, yeah, anyway," Peeta coughs, rubbing his neck. Her awkwardness seems to be contagious. He looks up at the building then back at her. "Well, I guess I can rest easy tonight knowing that you got home okay, so thanks for indulging me."

She laughs, clenching the material of her pockets in her fists. "Right. Now I just have to worry about you getting home."

He waves her off. "People know me. They wouldn't dare do anything to endanger their daily bread deliveries." He grins playfully, but it turns shy. "Well, I had a really great time, Katniss. Thank you for giving me a reason to get out of my house. With the bakery and all, I've become a bit of a hermit."

"I know what you mean," she agrees, thinking about her usual nightly routine of Netflix and the rickety old treadmill in her spare bedroom.

"Maybe we can do it again," he offers hopefully, but caution is heavy in his eyes still, and she's surprised, though she's not sure why. Surprised that he wants to see her again? Surprised that he doesn't want to come up? Surprised that she was ready for him to come up, that the invite was practically on the tip of her tongue?

Her mouth flaps silently for a moment as she grapples for a response until she can finally shake herself out of her stupor. "Yeah. Okay, yeah," she says with a weird, hoarse laugh, and he smiles, relieved.

"Okay. I'll talk to you later then."

And then there's a painful, uncomfortable moment where they just stand there uncertainly, unsure of the other's next move. When she sees him lean toward her, her heart leaps into her throat, and unbidden her eyes drift shut, and she begins to lean into him. But then she feels his lips on her cheek, and it's at once jarring and exhilarating, and she freezes in abject confusion and indecision.

The moment ends too soon, and all she's left with is the soft lingering impression of his lips on her skin and his scent in her lungs. As he pulls back, her eyes fixate on his mouth, missing the way his do the same to hers, but he straightens and gives her a smile, tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Have a good night, Katniss."

"Ha-have a good night, Peeta," she murmurs, too dazed to watch him step around her and walk away. She stands on her stoop, wondering what the hell just happened, before finally dragging herself inside.


	3. Rekindling

_**Johanna M [Nov 6, 2014 2:17 pm]:**  So did he put it in you?_

_**Madge U [Nov 6, 2014 2:19 pm]:**  Lol Yes, inquiring minds want to know_

Katniss scowls at the group text with Johanna and Madge, her cheeks flooding with heat. She's embarrassed on multiple levels, namely that her friends assume she got laid on her date with Peeta. And maybe just a little bit because the answer is no, Peeta Mellark  _did not put it in her_.

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:19 pm]:**  None of your business_

But of course, Johanna is not the kind to be dissuaded and does in fact believe it  _is_ her business.

_**Johanna M [Nov 6, 2014 2:20 pm]:**  Well you're no fun.  
I'm going to assume Peeta realized this too and that's why you didn't get laid._

Katniss huffs, but there's really no point in denying it.

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:21 pm]:**  That's not what I said.  
But no we didn't have sex. It was only drinks._

_**Johanna M [Nov 6, 2014 2:21 pm]:**  That's usually enough for me ;)_

_**Madge U [Nov 6, 2014 2:22 pm]:**  Yeah we know, Jo :P  
But Peeta's probably a gentleman. I'm sure he wouldn't try to push Katniss for sex so soon._

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:23 pm]:**  Yes, a perfect gentleman._

Katniss is grateful for Madge, for numerous reasons, but not least because her unassuming explanation has calmed Katniss' own doubts about Peeta. She wrestled all night with their date, wondering why he didn't kiss her, wondering if he wasn't interested in her beyond a platonic way, wondering if the chemistry she felt was just a figment of her imagination, the result of a long-denied high school crush.

He was being nice. Respectful. He asked her on a second date, didn't he? He has to be somewhat interested.

Then again, she hasn't heard from him yet, no follow-up about another date...

_**Johanna M [Nov 6, 2014 2:25 pm]:**  Ugh "gentleman," sounds boring.  
Let me know when shit actually gets interesting._

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:26 pm]:**  I'll be sure to tell you last._

Katniss slips her phone back into her bag, but it pings with another text before her fingers release it, and with a roll of her eyes she pulls it back out to read whatever crude message Johanna's sent her now.

But she's shocked to see it's a text from Peeta, a picture message, and she nearly drops the phone on her desk in her haste to open it. It's a picture of the cinnamon rolls from his bakery; the text underneath it reads:  _No pressure or anything, but I think my cinnamon rolls miss you._

She smiles to herself, a big, stupid smile that would mortify her if she could see herself right now, and she silently debates her response. Finally, she replies:  _Just the cinnamon rolls?_

_**Peeta M [Nov 6, 2014 2:30 pm]:**  Well I don't want to speak for them, but I think the spinach and feta puffs do too._

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:30 pm]:**  No offense to the puffs but I think I only have eyes for the cinnamon rolls._

_**Peeta M [Nov 6, 2014 2:31 pm]:**  I respect your commitment.  
And I'd hate to stand in the way of true love, would you like me to arrange a rendezvous for you and the rolls?_

Katniss stares at the screen, trying to dissect his words. He's flirting with her, but she's never been great at these kinds of social intricacies; if he wants to see her again, why doesn't he just ask outright? His verbal misdirect leaves her unsure how to interpret his intentions and respond. She finally settles on an appropriately noncommittal reply that still leaves the ball in his court.

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:33 pm]:**  I'll allow it._

_**Peeta M [Nov 6, 2014 2:33 pm]:**  I can also make you dinner, to sweeten the deal._

Well, that's a little more direct, at least. She chews the corner of her lip, another smile slipping through.

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:34 pm]:**  I can't say no to food._

_**Peeta E [Nov 6, 2014 2:35 pm]:**  A girl after my own heart.  
How about Saturday night? We can eat at your place, if you'd like._

She frowns, confused. At her place?

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:37 pm]:**  IDK if I'll have everything you need...I'm not a fancy baker like you._

_**Peeta M [Nov 6, 2014 2:38 pm]:**  Don't worry about it. A good cook always comes prepared._

Katniss questions this, gnawing on an errant hangnail on her thumb. She doesn't understand why they wouldn't just have dinner at his place, if he wanted to cook. The arrangement seems weird, impractical. Exhaling her bewilderment, she decides to just go with it. What does it matter where they meet at?

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:40 pm]:**  7 pm?_

_**Peeta M [Nov 6, 2014 2:41 pm]:**  It's a date._

* * *

Despite her skepticism, Katniss is thrumming with nervous excitement the day of her date with Peeta. In a misguided attempt to run off her anxiety, she nearly busts her chin on her treadmill, sprinting at a speed way beyond her usual pace; when her left foot catches on her right ankle, she only barely manages to grab onto the console and hoist herself back up before flying off the back. That would have been wonderful, a split, bloody chin, just in time for her date. She does bite the inside of her lip hard enough to taste blood, though.

As she showers and straightens up her apartment, she can't stop herself from periodically running the tip of her tongue over the tender, swollen laceration. She can just imagine Johanna ribbing her,  _"Already falling head over heels for this guy, eh, brainless?"_

Around 6 p.m., Katniss starts to ready herself for Peeta's arrival, taking her time to pick out an outfit: skinny jeans and a wine-colored, form-hugging, long-sleeved shirt. She applies a little eye makeup and lip gloss, which is already two steps more than her usual makeup regiment. She debates what to do with her hair, even considers leaving it down in an uncharacteristic manner, but in a split-second decision induced by self-conscious panic, she plaits it into her usual side braid.

And, before she leaves her bedroom, she fixes her bed, tucking the sheets in and smoothing the comforter down. Just in case he needs to use her bathroom, she tells herself.

It's 6:58 p.m. when a firm knock rattles the front door, and Katniss very deliberately and slowly lifts herself from her couch and strides to the door to answer it, trying not to seem too eager. Peeta's on the other side, his face igniting with a smile at the sight of her. It's infectious, and she's grinning shyly at him too as she opens the door wider to allow him inside.

"Hey," he greets, stepping inside when she moves out of the way. He's got a cooler in one hand, and a black bag slung over his other shoulder.

"Hi." She shuts the door. "Can I help you with that?"

He turns to face her, shaking his head. "Just show me where the kitchen is," he says, but he takes a moment to look at her, and she doesn't miss the way his eyes rake over the entire length of her body appreciatively. "You look beautiful."

She blushes, suppressing her involuntary shiver. "Thank you. You do too." And he does, his short blond waves falling effortlessly around his ears, his blue eyes set off by his blue henley. His gray jeans compliment the cut of his hips and thighs wonderfully. She wants to reach out and touch him, run her fingers down the seam of his pants, but she strokes her braid instead, twisting the frayed end around her index finger.

Peeta grins. "Well, thank you. You know, people don't realize it, but sometimes guys like to be told they're beautiful too."

She folds her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Pretty, even. Pretty works too."

Shaking her head, she laughs and points to her kitchen. "Come on, I think you promised me dinner. And cinnamon rolls."

He follows her, setting his cooler and bag on the counter. "Nuh uh. I'm holding these cinnamon rolls hostage until after dinner. I'm not convinced you're not going to just take the rolls and push me out the door," he jokes, and she tries not to smile too wide at him. She feels like she's smiling too much. She must look like a giddy school girl.

"I'd at least wait to see what you're making me for dinner before I throw you out," she says seriously, peeking into his cooler as he rifles through it. "Which is what, by the way?" He asked her about her food preferences yesterday, whether she had any diet restrictions, and she told him anything was fair game, but he didn't give her a hint about what he decided to make.

"I put together a menu of sage-brined chicken with a brown sugar glaze, paired with roasted fingerling potatoes and sauteed spinach, how does that sound?" he asks, pulling out the ingredients he just listed and spreading them out on the counter.

Her eyes bulge. "Oh—that's—I thought you'd just do something like spaghetti, but you're going all out," she breathes in awe, and his hands still, his eyebrow quirked.

"Well, if you'd prefer that, there's still time. I can run to the grocery store—" His tone is playful, but she can see the apprehension in his eyes, and her hands fly out to stop him.

"No! I mean, this is, this sounds great. I'm just shocked. You didn't have to go to this much trouble," she exclaims, her chest flushing under her shirt. "Can I do something to help?"

He smiles at her, his pinky finger brushing her knuckles as her hand settles beside his on the bag of potatoes. "Just give me the pleasure of your company while I cook."

She chuckles uncertainly. "Okay, I guess I can manage that." Reluctantly, she draws her hand away and pulls back from the counter to cross to her wine rack. "Would you like something to drink? I have alcohol," she offers, glancing back at him.

"I was hoping you would say that," he laughs, and she smiles at him, her fingers dancing across the corked mouths of the different bottles.

"Red or white?" she asks.

His expression turns sheepish. "I know I should be more cultured and say red, but...is white okay?"

She laughs. "To be honest, I only keep wine around because I thought it was the adult thing to do," she admits, selecting a chardonnay because hell if she really knows the difference.

He laughs, too. "I just cook with the stuff, I have no idea how to drink it either. And my fridge is normally stocked with Bud Light or Coors, anyway."

Popping the cork with a cork screw, Katniss pours them two glasses of wine and hands one to him. He smiles his thanks, and she takes a experimental sip of the wine. It's tart, dry, a little bland, and she scrunches her nose as she watches him sip his. "I guess I should have chilled it, huh?"

He shrugs, licking his lips. She tries not to stare at his mouth. "I'll look the other way if you want to throw some ice cubes in it," he says sincerely, making her laugh again. She downs her glass in two gulps before deciding to grab one of the PBRs in her fridge, and she settles on a stool on the other side of the bar—out of his way but where she can still watch him cook while they chat. It's hard not to leer at him, especially when his back is turned to her and bent over the stove; she's mesmerized by the movement of his muscles under the thin cotton of his shirt, and she has to force her eyes away from his ass multiple times, blushing when he turns to talk to her, oblivious to the fact that she's been mentally undressing him with her eyes.

The aroma of chicken and roasted potatoes soon fills her apartment, and it's intoxicating, enough to distract her from admiring his form; she's practically drooling by the time the food is finished, and he plates everything with practiced precision. She cringes when she remembers she forgot to clear off the dining table, which is buried under stacks of mail and old newspapers. She normally just eats on her couch, parked in front of the TV.

"That's okay. How's your coffee table?" he asks when she apologizes. She tosses the remote controls onto the couch and shoves some magazines under the side tables, and he sets the plates down on the coffee table. She grabs her beer and a new can for him, joining him on the floor. "Thank you," he says, accepting the PBR.

"I should be the one thanking you. For making me dinner."

Peeta shakes his head. "You did me a favor. It's nice cooking for someone else."

With a smile, Katniss picks up her utensils and cuts a piece of chicken to eat. It's sweet and savory and tender, and she has to swallow a moan. Her approval must be written all over her face, though, because Peeta is watching her, smiling. "Good?" he asks, and she nods.

"Amazing," she says genuinely, scooping some of the potatoes and spinach onto her fork to try as well. It's all delicious, and they eat in near-silence, Katniss more interested in tasting and savoring all the food. The quiet isn't awkward; she feels comfortable, relaxed, and he doesn't push her to talk other than a few questions or comments here and there.

Once she's finished, he finally opens the conversation a little more, leaning back against her couch. "So what's your favorite color?"

She can't help but laugh. "My favorite color?"

He smiles. "I feel like it's important to know even the most trivial things about a person. And someone's favorite color says a lot about them, I think."

"Well, I like green. What does that say?" she asks languidly, twirling a coaster on the coffee table.

He squints, pretending to study her. "Green...green is for money and greed, so you're obviously very superficial and money-hungry," he deadpans.

She nods. "Yep. That sounds exactly like me. What's your favorite color?"

"Orange."

She almost laughs, not quite expecting that answer, but she considers this, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "So, what that says about you is...you're a traffic cone."

Peeta laughs loudly. "Quite an accomplished traffic cone, at least." She grins at him; the sound of his laugh is thrilling, and it makes his handsome face even handsomer. She wants to move closer, to touch the side of her body to his, but she doesn't. "I actually don't own any orange clothes. I don't know why," he muses.

She shrugs, resting her head on the couch as she looks up at him. "It's a hard color to pull off."

"Unless you're a basketball. Or a tiger," he says, and she laughs softly. He angles his head toward her, falling quiet as he looks at her. Her laughter peters out until she's silent too, her breathing escalating as they stare at each other; she studies his face, her eyes darting from his eyes to his lips to his cheeks to his nose. She can see his eyes doing the same, and her stomach flutters dangerously.

He clears his throat suddenly, breaking the spell, and he glances to the couch and then the TV. "Uh, you want to watch a movie or something?"

She blinks rapidly for a few seconds before she nods, lifting her head. "Sure," she says quietly, pulling herself up onto the couch. He follows suit, settling in beside her. They're only barely touching, his thigh grazing hers; she itches to sink into him, curl under his arm, but cuddling on her couch is probably too intimate for a second date, right? It's strange how comfortable she already feels around him.

They decide on "A Fish Called Wanda," though it takes Katniss a while to choose because Peeta leaves it up to her, having no real preference for what they watch. She picks a comedy because it feels safe and funny, not likely to bring down the mood. About 15 minutes into the movie, Peeta shifts restlessly beside her for a long moment, crossing and uncrossing his ankle over his knee; she watches him curiously from the corner of her eye. Finally, he stills and turns his body toward hers, just barely. His arm that was resting on his leg comes up, like he means to put it around her, but he hesitates. "Is this okay?" he asks uncertainly, and she's briefly rattled by his question.

"Um—yeah, yes, if you want, I mean," she agrees readily, leaning forward so he can drape his arm around her shoulders. This forces her closer to his side, her head tucked against his chest, almost in the crook of his neck. She's stiff only for a second until she adjusts to the position, to his proximity. All it takes is a deep inhale of his scent, clean and masculine, for her to melt into his embrace.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks quietly, and she nods.

"Yes," she whispers, and while her body is relaxed, her heart is pounding, just a little. His heart beat is strong and steady under her ear. It lulls her into a state of ease and security, and they don't move from their seat for a while until, reluctantly, Peeta gets up to retrieve the promised cinnamon rolls.

She'd almost rather say fuck the rolls and have him stay put.

Of course, as soon as she takes a bite of the roll, she changes her mind. "These are even better than before," she tells him, despite her mouthful. He grins at her and eats at a more leisurely pace than she does. She's not even hungry, thanks to dinner, but she scarfs the roll down. In her haste, she accidentally nips on the tender spot on the inside of her mouth from her earlier treadmill misstep, and she winces, swallowing. The wound throbs a little, and after she finishes eating, she can't stop herself from absently running her tongue over the spot.

Peeta picks up on her discomfort. "You okay?" he asks, setting his plate on the coffee table.

She spares him a sheepish look as the movie credits begin to roll. "Yeah. I just...I was running earlier and tripped and, uh, kind of bit the inside of my mouth. Just hurts a little," she says with an embarrassed laugh, once again touching the tip of her tongue to the spot.

He looks concerned. "You tripped? Outside? Was it bad?"

Heat fills her face. "Ah, no. It was on my treadmill. It wasn't bad, honest," she says quickly. She juts her bottom lip in a pout to show him. He smiles at her, relieved, but he brings his hand up to her face, cradling her cheek so he can touch her lip with his thumb. Surprised, she freezes, her eyes locked on his face as he examines her lip, the callused pad of his thumb lightly probing the delicate flesh. He's leaning in, his long, fair eyelashes fluttering as his eyes scan the wound.

"Looks painful," he murmurs, his blue eyes peeking back up at hers.

"A little bit," she whispers, struggling against the impulse to flick her tongue against the tip of his thumb.

His thumb is still caressing her lip, but he's just staring at her now, his eyes darkening. She doesn't break his gaze as he leans closer, and her breath sticks in her throat when he kisses her lip tenderly, once, twice. He lingers, searching her eyes for approval, reassurance. He must find it because then he sucks her lip between his, gently laving the tender flesh with his tongue. Her mouth opens wider, in shock and pleasure, and when she feels his lips release hers, parting slightly, she slants her mouth against his, a moan leaking out of her as her tongue touches his.

And then he's kissing her greedily, a sharp intake of air through his nose as he seals their mouths together completely, stroking her tongue with his. His palm tilts her face before sliding to the back of her neck, entangling his fingers in her hair. Katniss clutches at his jaw with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut as she nips and sups and swallows. He tastes both sweet and tart, with an underlying bitterness from the hoppiness of the beer, and she wants to drink him in completely.

Her body is twisted at an awkward angle toward his, but he rectifies this, pushing her back against the couch and pivoting so he's leaning over her, hovering just barely. She sighs into his mouth, a breathy whine he inhales himself, deepening the kiss as he emits a soft groan of his own.

Her body feels like a live wire, electricity humming through her like a storm brewing, the thunder rumbling low in her belly, between her thighs. She throbs with each swipe of his tongue in her mouth, arousal pooling steadily in her panties at an alarming rate. She's pretty sure she can feel the edge of his erection just barely grazing her thigh, and if she were to shift just enough, only enough to press against it, he might get the hint to touch her more, kiss her neck, grab a breast,  _something_. She needs more, whatever he's offering.

But her subtle maneuver backfires, and when she rubs up against his erection, he inhales harshly before halting the kiss. Her eyes snap open at the sudden disruption, and he's looking at her too, their lips just barely whispering against each other. His pupils are fat and black, but then he's blinking, the spell broken, and he places a last, chaste kiss to seal the moment before pulling back.

"Sorry, I hope that didn't make your lip hurt worse," he says contritely.

She can barely breathe; her lip is the least of her concerns. Any pain has been regenerated into pure bliss at this point. "N-no, it's...good, that was good." Her cheeks warm even more than they already had, and he chuckles gruffly.

"Yeah...yeah, it was. Really, really...I..." He sighs, sitting up and scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I should...it's getting late, so I should probably, ah, I gotta get home, I mean." Her confusion must scrawl across her face at his words because he backpedals immediately, "I've gotta open the bakery early, I mean. I'm sorry."

Katniss swallows her disappointment and hurt, forcing a tight smile as she nods. "Of course. Um. Thank you for dinner and...for coming over." She can't meet his eyes, training her unfocused stare on her knee, but Peeta touches her hand, curling his palm around hers.

"Katniss. Thank you for letting me come over and cook for you. I know it was probably a bit of an imposition," he says, squeezing her fingers, and suddenly she understands. It makes sense now, why he wanted to come over to her place instead of inviting her to his.

So he could make his break, like he's doing now. In case the date went bad, in case he realized that he didn't like her, that she was weird and boring or that she was a crazy cat lady or something. Well, he's wrong about that because she hates cats, Katiss thinks, anger spiking through her.

She doesn't voice any of this, though. She just nods at him, forcing another, wider smile when it becomes clear he won't let go of her hand until she does, his blue eyes pinning her to the spot. "It wasn't an imposition," she says tightly, and concern flickers in his eyes, but she stands up before he can push it any further. "Let me help you clean up."

They clean up together, packing his supplies back into his cooler and bag. He tries to make light conversation, but she's too humiliated to contribute more than half-hearted replies, and she's just ready for him to leave, even with his taste still burning her lips.

Finally, he heads for the door, and she straggles behind him, her arms crossed over her stomach. When he turns to face her, his hand on the doorknob, his brow is creased, and there's an urgency in his voice. "Katniss—" But he stops himself, gives an imperceptible shake of his head, and he clears his expression. "I'll call you, okay? Or text. You seem like more of a texter, right?"

She shrugs. "Sure," she says noncommittally. Peeta sighs to himself and then, uncertainly, leans forward to press a goodbye kiss to her mouth. Despite the confusion and insult clouding her brain, her body sparks at the pressure, and she savors the fleeting touch. Then he gives her a small smile before shutting the door behind him.

* * *

"What do you mean you don't think it's going to work?"

Madge's voice is incredulous on the other end of the phone, and Katniss shrugs as she stares at the ceiling from her bed, even though her friend can't see her.

"I just don't think he's that into me," she replies simply, and Madge makes a skeptical sound on her end of the phone.

"I don't believe that. What happened?"

Katniss sighs as she mentally replays the end of her and Peeta's date from earlier that night. She thought about calling Johanna, but she isn't particularly interested in her friend's tough-love approach to relationships. Madge is kinder, more thoughtful, rational. Katniss feels more comfortable talking to her about this sort of situation.

"I don't know. He came over, made dinner, and we were having a good time, the conversation and chemistry seemed to be there. But then...he kissed me, and—"

"He kissed you?!" Madge exclaims excitedly, and Katniss scowls despite her blush.

"Yes, calm down. We're not in high school anymore; this really isn't that scandalous."

"Okay, okay, you're right, sorry, but—well, technically, it's  _kind_  of like being back in high school, since it's Peeta."

" _Anyway,_ " Katniss stresses. "We kissed. And it was great. At least, I thought it was. But then he stopped it and said he had to leave."

"Oh."

Katniss' heart sinks a little at that. Somewhere inside herself, she was hoping her friend might be able to talk her out of her growing doubt. "Yeah. Oh."

Her friend hums thoughtfully. "Well...did he say he wanted to see you again?"

"Yea—" Katniss stops herself as she thinks back on their conversation before he left. Her frown deepens. "Actually, no. He didn't. He just said  _I'll call or text you_."

Madge makes another skeptical sound in the back of her throat. "Well, that's...weird. But I don't think it  _definitely_  means he's not into you or doesn't want to see you again," she says hopefully. "Maybe...um...you know, maybe he just wants to take it slow."

Katniss shakes her head, absently picking at a thread on her comforter. "I don't think so. I mean, some woman actually advertised him in a bathroom, Madge.  _Best sex of your life_. That really doesn't sound like someone who just takes it slow. It sounds like someone who gets around," she complains sourly, the embarrassment of being rejected only stinging sharper.

"I mean, it's a little bizarre," Madge laughs. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make you feel worse—I guess I just wonder who the hell wrote that, you know?"

"I don't know. I don't care," Katniss says bitterly, which isn't true. She does care, she does want to know what woman Peeta apparently finds more attractive, more desirable, and more deserving of his attentions than her. "I think you guys were wrong from the start. He wasn't trying to ask me on a date that first night in the bar and was just being polite when I offered to buy him drinks later, and then I trapped him into a second date."

"You're being too hard on yourself," Madge chastises her. "Why would he want to come to your place if that were the case?"

Katniss twists her mouth doubtfully. "So he could bail at any time."

Madge sighs. "He'll call you."

"I doubt it—"

"If nothing more than to let you down gently; he seems polite like that," Madge interrupts her, but if that's supposed to be reassuring, it's definitely not. Katniss groans.

"Oh god, no, I'd rather he just disappear into the ether, never to be heard from or seen again."

Madge laughs. "Just stop dwelling on it, okay? I know you, Katniss. Don't beat yourself up over it. If it doesn't work out, it's just a failed dating experience; everyone has that."

"Yeah, yeah," Katniss grumbles. She decides she's had enough of her pity party—and she's sure Madge has too—so she changes the subject to work and the latest episode of "Brooklyn 99" before they eventually hang up.

Her thoughts drift back to Peeta, however. With an aggravated sigh, she rolls over onto her stomach, burying her face in her bedspread, and she thinks bitterly to herself, _Lesson learned: This is why high school crushes should_ stay _in high school._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be working on a Prompts in Panem fic for the next week, so the next update for this story will be a little longer in coming, probably not till after the new year. Find me on tumblr at fuckingplebe and make sure you check out the many sure-to-be wonderful holiday fics from all the authors on promptsinpanem's tumblr page next weekend, Dec. 20!


	4. Reassurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more chapters left, I think. I'll try not to take too long wrapping this story up. Thank you so much for all the feedback, it means a lot to me!

To Katniss' surprise, Peeta shows up at her office at town hall a few days later. He's standing by his car, leaning against the driver's side door, when she pulls up. She was out of the office most of the morning, reviewing a zoning site for a public works project; she has no idea how long he's been waiting. Or why he's waiting for her at all.

They've been texting, though Katniss has been noticeably more reticent on her end. She's still confused by his actions and his rejection. She thought their date Saturday night was going to be the end of their short-lived courtship, but for some reason, Peeta still wants to talk to her. And flirt with her. But he hasn't asked her out again.

So her confusion has morphed into frustration and a forced apathy, and when she gets out of her car, she approaches him with her guard up, a frown etched into her face—despite the way her stomach flips at the sight of him and his stupid dimpled smile.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, trying to remain indifferent to his presence. She stops about two feet in front of him, her arms reflexively crossing over her chest. God, anyone watching them right now would think she has a legitimate reason to be angry with him. A normal 24-year-old adult probably shouldn't be this wounded and hostile about being rejected, but Katniss doesn't put herself out there often, so this smarts more than it should.

Peeta pushes off his car, smiling sheepishly as he closes the distance between them. She almost expects him to hug her ( _hopes, really_ ), but he just shoves his hands into his pockets. "I had the day off from the bakery, so I thought I'd see if you wanted to get lunch. They told me inside that you'd be back soon. Is this creepy?" he asks honestly, raising an eyebrow.

"A little," she shrugs, though she's not freaked out.

He nods. "I guess I figured you'd already set the precedent for showing up at the other's place of work unannounced."

She's surprised by this, jerking back as if his words physically slapped her. Her cheeks bloom with embarrassment. "You work at a bakery. It's a little different," she says defensively, but he just laughs.

"I was kidding. I'm sorry. Actually, I wish you would swing by my bakery more often," he says, shrugging his shoulders. She eyes him suspiciously, perplexed.

"Well." She's not entirely sure what to say. "If you want me to come by, you can just ask," she says uncertainly.

Peeta smiles. "Is there no room for spontaneity here?"

She levels him with a look. "I'm an engineer," she deadpans, but his smile doesn't waver.

"Engineers still gotta eat though, right?" he prods, and she nods grudgingly. "So let me feed you. Let's get lunch—if you can spare the time."

She blinks, her arms unfolding to drop by her sides. "You want to get lunch?" she repeats, stunned.

His eyebrows lift. "You make it sound like I just proposed we run off and get eloped or something."

She's not sure she could be anymore confused right now. "Um...okay, I guess that—yeah," she fumbles with her words like she's a high school girl all over again. "I just...need to drop this off inside." She waves the folder of documents and her notes on the zoning site at him, and he just smiles.

"I'll wait."

* * *

They go to a nearby cafe and deli shop, The Hob. Katniss eats there often, but it's not a place Peeta is very familiar with, so he defers to her food recommendations. She suggests the veggie sandwich, and that's what they both order.

"Did you know that a hob is a magical creature from Germanic folklore?" he throws out randomly, popping one of the jalapenos that fell off his sandwich into his mouth.

She arches her eyebrow dubiously, swallowing her mouthful. "It also just refers to a part of the fireplace," she says. "That's probably the likelier inspiration."

He shakes his head. "Not as cool, though. I'd go with my explanation if I were the owner."

"Yeah, Ripper would love advice on how to run her business, make sure you tell her that," Katniss says wryly, taking another bite of her sandwich.

Peeta smiles at her. "You friends with the owner?" he asks before biting off the corner of his own sandwich.

Katniss shrugs. "I know her well enough. She caters at town hall a lot."

"And her name is  _Ripper_?" he clarifies, and she nods. "Sounds like I should keep my business expertise to myself then."

She laughs mid-bite, trying not to spray avocado and red peppers everywhere. Once she gets the bite of sandwich safely into her mouth, she sets the remaining half down on her plate. Peeta's watching her, a barely suppressed grin ghosting his lips, and she frowns self-consciously. "What?"

He gestures to her mouth. "You just have sauce on your chin," he explains, but his hand is already reaching for her face, his thumb tenderly wiping the chipotle cream sauce from the corner of her mouth. She stiffens at the contact, her heart fluttering obnoxiously, and they lock eyes. It's a painfully intimate gesture, and his hand seems to linger on her face for an improbable length of time before he pulls back, clearing his throat.

He doesn't look uncomfortable, but his smile tics nervously, and he cleans his hand off on a napkin before dropping it in his lap. "So I guess I had other motives for inviting you out to lunch today," he begins, and she purses her lips uneasily.

"Okay..." she trails off, giving him the go-ahead to explain.

He scratches the back of his neck, then he exhales a puff of air on a short laugh. "Well, I get the feeling that you're a little frustrated with me—or rather, I hope it's just frustration and not disinterest," he says.

"I'm not—" She searches for a defense, but he stops her, which is good because she's not entirely sure what to say.

"You don't have to explain yourself. I'm not asking you to. That's actually what I'm trying to do."

Katniss chews on her bottom lip, more out of anxiety than anything else; she's not sure what he's going to say. Is this where he lets her down politely? In a public place in case she causes a scene? Damn Madge for accurately predicting the bounds of Peeta's civility!

"Look. About the other night at your place..." He takes a deep breath, not quite meeting her eyes as he seems to be debating his response. Finally, he releases it, holding her gaze. "I like you."

Her eyes nearly double in size. She's sure she looks comical. "Oh," she says, flushing hotly under the collar of her jacket. She wasn't expecting  _that_.

He likes her.

_Peeta Mellark_  likes  _her_.

Suddenly, she grows wary. Where's the 'but'? His setup sounds like there's an addendum to follow.

"But...?" she prompts him suspiciously, demands, really, and his eyes go large under his raised eyebrows.

"Oh, no, there's no but to that." He smiles at her. "I just...wanted you to know that. I'm sorry if I've been acting weird. I'm just rusty at this whole dating thing."

Her eyelids flutter as she processes his confession. "Oh," she repeats dumbly, suddenly finding her sandwich extremely interesting as she fidgets with the crust of her bread. She should say something more, admit her own feelings for him, anything, so he's not just left hanging there, but the words stick in her throat. It's scary. She's not sure she's ready to put it out there into the universe.

If he's discouraged by her lack of response, he doesn't reveal so. Instead, he continues talking, "And I just wanted to let you know that I'm not dating anyone else right now."

She cuts her eyes to him sharply in alarm. "Is that something you normally do, date multiple people at once?" she asks, though it's more of an accusation. She didn't really consider that before, that he could be seeing other women at the same time, but now the idea's been planted in her head, jealousy immediately sprouting.

But Peeta shakes his head. "Uh, no. Not at all." He laughs awkwardly. "I guess that was my attempt to, ah...tell you I'm seeing you, exclusively. And I guess to see if you shared my feelings on the exclusivity of us...dating." He looks incredibly uncomfortable now, his ears turning pink. "I told you I was rusty at this."

" _Oh._ " She stares at him, actually gaping at him until she forces her mouth closed, and she shakes her head. "You want to...date me exclusively," she reiterates, not quite believing it.

"Yeah. I guess that's what I'm asking," he says, shrugging helplessly. "If this is too soon for you, I get it. I don't want to pressure you. I just wanted you to know where I stand."

She swallows hard after a moment before replying, "I don't...I don't date more than one guy at a time, Peeta."

His mouth spreads into a barely restrained smile, and he nods. "Okay. So we're on the same page."

"Looks like it," she agrees, and even though she's bewildered and uncertain, she can't stop her own giddy smile from tugging at the corners of her mouth. She hastily takes another bite of her sandwich to stop the grin before it splits her face in half or something.

After lunch, Peeta drives her back to her office. They linger in his car, the engine idling, and Peeta twists in his seat to face her. "Let me take you out tonight. Or tomorrow. Whenever you're available," he murmurs, and there's an urgency to his request.

She should play coy, make him wait or whatever dumb games people play these days. "I'm available tonight," she says instead, hedging the eagerness out of her voice.

He smiles, relieved, and he inhales deeply, but there's a dark intensity to his gaze as he stares at her. Unconsciously, she bites her lip, her stomach knotting in anticipation. She's not sure who leans in first—maybe they both do at the same time—but suddenly they're kissing the next moment, their mouths slanting together in a desperate, heady clash of lips and tongues. Peeta cradles her face in his hands as she fists his shirt in her hands, trying to pull him over the center console, or climb over it, but the seat belts lock them to their seats.

This time, Katniss is the one who stops the kiss, and only because she's worried one of her colleagues might see them. With a sharp inhale, she releases his wet lips, licking his saliva off her own, savoring the taste on her tongue. "I should—I really gotta get back to work," she pants, and he groans in disappointment but nods, his head dropping forward slightly.

"Yeah, I know. Tonight, though, right?"

He's only referring to the date, she's sure, but there seems to be the promise of something more, especially on the heels of such a heated kiss. She feels dizzy all of a sudden and manages a nod. "Yeah. Call me later."

He lifts his head to meet her eyes; they're dark and hooded, but the fond half-smile softens his face. "Call?"

She nods again, smiling as well. "Yeah. Call me. Talking is better." Better than texting, she means. Hearing his voice doesn't leave as much room for misinterpretation as texts do. And admittedly, his voice is becoming an increasingly addictive drug.

His grin widens. "Okay. I'll call you later."

She allows him one more kiss before she forces herself out of his car, her whole body still humming as she heads inside town hall.

* * *

"Bowling?" she asks incredulously, fixing Peeta with a doubtful look when he pulls up in front of the Capitol Bowling building.

He smiles at her expression, cutting his engine off. "You kicked my ass at darts. I feel like I need to redeem myself by playing you in something I'm good at."

"And the thing you're good at is  _bowling_ ," she deadpans as they climb out of his car to head inside.

"I like to think I'm good at a respectable number of things," he says, holding the door for her. "I'm good at making paper airplanes. I'm good at opening jars. All kinds of jars. I never have a problem with that. I could be your go-to jar opener, if you're looking for one. I'm also good at reprogramming VCRs."

She laughs, turning to face him as they stop to wait in line for shoes and a lane. "Do people even own VCRs anymore?"

"Shit. You're right. I guess I'll have to scratch that off my list. Well, I'm good at yelling out the right answers before the contestants do on 'Family Feud.' It gets pretty intense around my house," he muses, then furrows his brow in mock thought. "I think that's it. Yep, that's the extent of the things I'm good at."

She raises her eyebrows. "Wow, it's amazing I'm not having to beat out dozens of other suitors for your time and attention."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "There's always a line at the bakery of women who want my buns."

Katniss groans loudly. "You did not just really say that," she admonishes.

He nods with grave sincerity as they shuffle to the front of the line. "I'm good at making incredibly corny puns, did I mention that?"

"I would keep that off your OKCupid profile," she suggests, but she gives him a small smile anyway.

They grab bowling shoes in their respective sizes and, after paying, find their assigned lane. She's skeptical of his game, but after three strikes in a row, she realizes he wasn't lying.

"Okay, Lebowski," she says suspiciously, pouring herself a beer from the pitcher. "How are you so good at bowling?"

Peeta spins around to face her, after getting his fourth strike. "You know, you never actually see The Dude bowl in that movie. I'm more like The Jesus."

She raises her eyebrows as he sits down across from her at the table to pour a beer. "Do you also expose yourself to children?"

The pitcher freezes, and he grimaces. "Okay, scratch that."

"Maybe another thing to leave off your OKCupid profile," she continues wryly, and he fixes her with narrowed eyes.

"You're being very undude right now," he accuses, swigging his beer once he tops it off.

"Well, that's just, like, your opinion, man," she jokes, and Peeta smiles, shaking his head as he taps his beer to hers in cheers.

"To answer your original question, I did intramural bowling in college."

Katniss lingers at the table instead of immediately taking her turn. "Yeah?"

He nods. "I was a wrestler, but I fucked up my knee pretty bad my first year. I decided to find something else to do to keep me young and spry."

She quirks her eyebrow. "Because when I think bowling, I think young and spry."

He gives her an exasperated look. "You gonna bust my balls all night, Everdeen?"

She shrugs. "If you're going to completely humiliate me at bowling, I think it's a fair trade-off."

He narrows his eyes at her, but she can see the mirth in their depths. "Go get your gutterball already," he says before taking a sip.

Scoffing, Katniss gets up to do just that. Instead, she manages to hit four pins and then three, which is her best round yet. "See, you're already improving just by virtue of being in the proximity of my bowling prowess," he congratulates her when she returns to the table, and she scowls at him.

"I don't think I hassled you this much at darts," she points out, picking up a menu to thumb through. Terrible bowling alley food sounds perfect right now.

"I've played competitive sports since I was 12," he defends. "Shit talking comes with the territory. Plus, I'm trying to impress you. How else will you know I'm actually good at something?"

She frowns, glancing at him briefly. "You bake. You cook. You bowl. You paint. As soon as you learn how to play darts well, you'll be completely out of my league."

She doesn't mean to say it; she focuses intently on the menu, hoping the statement came off as playfully as she intended it and not as pathetic as it sounded to her own ears.

She's startled when he grabs her hand, forcing her to drop the menu. "Hey," he says softly, and she stares at him wide-eyed. He's quiet for a moment as he studies her, and she wants to punch herself for ruining the atmosphere of the date. Finally, his mouth twists humorously. "Was that a bowling pun?"

She blinks in confusion but laughs a second later when it registers with her. "No, that was completely unintentional. Puns are your thing, remember?"

"Ah, yes. My list keeps getting longer."

"As your head gets bigger," she says dryly, relieved he diffused the awkwardness, but he smiles at her.

"For what it's worth...I only want to be in your league," he tells her, squeezing her hand as the corner of his mouth turns up. Warmth fills her chest and stomach, but she covers it with a laugh.

"Okay. Enough with the puns, please. Go bowl. I'm gonna order some nachos."

Peeta runs his thumb across her knuckles before releasing her hand to stand up, still smiling. "Okay. But seriously. Matching shirts. Think about it."

She shakes her head as he selects his ball from the ball return, but once his back is turned, she hides her wide, dopey smile in her beer.

* * *

After, they linger outside the bowling alley, hanging around his car while they talk. They seem to both be stalling, neither really wanting to get in the car to end the date. Because once he drops her off at her place, Katniss doesn't know if she's supposed to invite him in. If he would even want to come in. She's not sure she can handle another rejection from him. So she finds herself wrought with indecision.

Peeta waves a hand in front of her face. "Where'd you go?" he asks humorously when her eyes focus back on his face.

She smiles apologetically. "Sorry, guess I'm tired," she lies, but she regrets it as soon as he nods in understanding.

"I should get you home then."

She tries not to sound too eager. "I'm not  _that_ tired." He raises his eyebrows, intrigued.

"So what do you want to do then?" he asks, and she doesn't think she's imagining the husky quality his voice takes on with that one question.

She looks away, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip. "What do  _you_ want to do?" By some miracle, she actually sounds coy.

"Well. As fun as standing around kicking rocks is..." he trails off, then he's on her, pinning her to the side of the car with his body as his mouth descends on hers. She greets his tongue eagerly, sweeping hers past his lips to taste him. They both moan simultaneously, their lips resuming the kiss from earlier that day as if they never stopped. His hands bracket her hips, his fingers wrapping around and hooking under her back pockets, digging into her ass. She twines her arms around his shoulders and threads her fingers through his hair, tugging at the short curls.

She can feel his erection, stiff against her pelvis; her own arousal pools between her thighs, dampening her panties, and she presses closer to him, rubbing against his erection. Peeta groans, sucking her lip between his teeth, and his hand inches up her shirt to palm the heated flesh of her abdomen. Her stomach tightens deliciously.

She's pretty sure his hand is making a path up to her breast, but a juvenile whistle punctuated by snickers breaks them apart, throwing the proverbial ice water on the moment as Katniss flushes furiously in embarrassment and ducks her head. Breathing hard, Peeta doesn't move away from her, but he quickly, discreetly withdraws his hand and smooths her shirt back down.

"Sorry," he sighs, catching her eye. He looks as dazed as she feels, his pupils fat, a deep black. "Got carried away. I forgot there were children around."

"There are no children at my apartment," she says before she can even think through what she's doing, and she sucks in a breath as he studies her.

"Let's go there then," he agrees, and she bites down on her lip before nodding. He opens the passenger door for her, and she slips in. He takes a moment to adjust himself then strides around the car to the other side, hastily climbing in and starting the engine.

It's only a 10-minute drive to her apartment. They don't talk, and Katniss is practically bouncing with anxiety and anticipation. She jiggles her leg nervously, worried he'll change his mind by the time they reach her place, but to her delight he dutifully follows her up the stairs to her floor, his hands ghosting on her hips, her waist, her arms, anywhere he can touch her with a respectful restraint. Embarrassingly, she struggles to unlock her door, her hand trembling slightly.

But once they're safely inside, he's got her pinned again with her back to the door, mirroring their earlier arrangement against his car. Her keys drop to the floor along with her purse, and she pulls on his shirt to connect her mouth with his, desperately and hungrily kissing him. There's a sloppy, unpracticed way their lips move together, their noses bumping and their teeth clashing, but she's never been more turned on in her life. Her clit throbs incessantly, and she opens her legs wider so he can step between them and press his erection against her center. She moans, and he takes the opportunity to attack her neck, skimming his teeth and tongue along the sinews and muscles there, suckling at her pulse point.

His hand dips under her shirt, and thankfully there is no wolf whistle this time to dissuade him because he pushes up until he cups her breast, massaging it through bra. Katniss whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut; his thumb dips under the edge of her bra to tease her stiff nipple, and she bucks against his erection. The friction sparks white behind her eyelids, and she moans his name.

With his other hand, Peeta unfastens her jeans and lowers the zipper. He halts his trail on her neck to look at her. "Is this okay?" he breathes, his hand poised at the parted fly of her pants, and she nods sharply. Hurriedly, he tugs her pants halfway down her thighs. The crotch of her panties is soaked, made uncomfortably cool by the exposure, but he slides his hand past the waistband of her underwear, curling over her mound. She gasps, jerking against him when his fingers glide through the wetness there, and he curses reverently. "Fuck, you're wet."

She can't formulate words, gripping his biceps so tightly she's sure to leave bruises. Peeta explores her folds with achingly slow leisure, like he's mapping every line and plane, but when he grazes her clit, she bangs her head back against the door.

"There?" he growls, and she nods with a gasp as he begins to rub it. Slowly, fumbling slightly, as he finds a rhythm, as he gauges her reaction. But when she begins to grind down against his hand with little hiccups of pleasure, he quickens his ministrations, bearing down on the little bud with more pressure to work through the slipperiness of her body's quickening response.

It doesn't take long to unravel her; she swears it's only 10 seconds before she clamps down on his hand, her entire body tightening and shorting with electricity as she comes. Peeta sucks on her neck when she does, his fingers still moving, dipping inside her, drawing out her moisture, and she quakes with the aftershocks for a good minute while the orgasm subsides.

She's still trembling when he removes his hand and wipes his fingers off on his pants. He nuzzles the side of her face, but he tugs her pants back up, rebuttoning them. She makes a sound of protest, lolling her head on the door to look at him as he lifts his head. He looks sheepish, almost, but there's an intensity in his gaze. "Sorry," he breathes.

She looks at him, confused. "What?" Her tongue feels thick in her mouth, and she shakes the fog from her head. She reaches a hand between them, cupping his erection through his pants. "Don't you want...?"

He shakes his head, pressing his mouth together and swallowing. "I mean...yes. But I don't...not tonight. Not yet..."

She's having a hard time following him, and her bottom lip juts out defiantly. "Then why did you come up with me?" she croaks out.

He laughs hoarsely, closing his eyes. "Because I'm weak. Because I needed to know what you feel like," he murmurs.

She stares at him blankly. "You just wanted to get me off? That's it?"

He lifts his eyebrows, just barely. "Does that sound completely absurd?"

"A little bit, yes," she tells him, still flabbergasted. She has to bite back her next words:  _Why don't you want to have sex with me?_ But he seems to hear it anyway, senses it.

"Katniss," he starts, his eyes locking onto hers. "Can we take this slow? Is that okay?"

Her mind is still reeling from the post-orgasmic euphoria. Her body is starting to feel limp and sated, and her brain feels like it's short-circuiting from what he's telling her. And she feels a familiar defensiveness kick in. "I'm not easy," she says tightly, her mouth curling into a scowl. A sense of humiliation is starting to scratch at the base of her skull as she realizes that he's accusing her of moving too fast.

His eyes widen, and he pulls back. "What? I'm not—that's not..." Flustered, he stops a second to gather his thoughts, then he tries again, "I don't...think of people in those terms. I don't think that of  _you_ , period. It wouldn't matter anyway. I just...It's not about you. I just want to do it this way."

When she doesn't respond, he adds, "I do want to. At some point. I hope you know that."

She's not sure if she does. She was convinced just a few days ago he wasn't interested in her, at all. She's starting to get whiplash from the back and forth.

But she feels contrite, ashamed, and she tucks her hair behind her ears, dropping her gaze. "Sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you," she whispers.

He smiles. "You didn't. You haven't even said the word sex, Katniss."

She scowls at herself, rolling her eyes. Maybe not, but acting wounded and pissy every time he shies away from her physical overtures is pretty damn childish. She feels Peeta poking at her mouth, playfully turning her lips up into a smile. She tries to resist, but when she looks at him, she has to fight the instinctive curving of her mouth.

"You're so...fucking perfect when you come," he chuckles, the sound strained. "If you don't think I want to make you do that as often as possible, in every way imaginable, you're insane."

A hot flush consumes her face at his words, and she can't even look at him. "Oh," she chokes out, shocked and incredulous.

He laughs again. "Do you believe me now? Is that direct enough?"

When she finally nods, he steps away from her. She's slumped against the door, and it takes some effort to stand up straight, Peeta taking her hand to help. She's acutely aware of everything now, self-conscious about the moment they just shared, about how he undid her with a few simple strokes of his fingers. How loud was she? She can't look him in the eye right now, but Peeta is either oblivious to the awkwardness, or ignores it, because he pulls her into a hug and kisses the top of her head.

"I should head home though," he tells her regretfully, and she nods. He doesn't leave without kissing her a few times first. From her bedroom window, she watches him get into his car and drive away, and after brushing her teeth, she promptly passes out.

Thankfully, this time without the prelude of questions and self-doubt.


	5. Reassessing

"Listen, I know you're telling me the package was delivered, but I'm telling you it wasn't." A pause. "What do you mean,  _how do I know_? Because there is no package on my porch or in my mailbox, you twit!"

Katniss nearly snorts out the lo mein noodle in her mouth as she listens to Johanna argue with the postal service on the phone. Shoveling some more noodles into her mouth with her chopsticks, Katniss stares listlessly at Margot Robbie's face paused on the TV screen and waits for her friend to finish eating the poor customer service rep alive.

After a few more terse, profanity-laced exchanges, Johanna ends her call and flops down on the couch beside her, grabbing her takeout container. "What's the verdict?" Katniss asks, unable to suppress a grin.

"Fucker said to call the sender to see if they'll ship the package again because it was likely stolen," Johanna snaps and scarfs down some veggies and rice as Katniss starts up "Wolf of Wall Street" again.

"That sucks," Katniss commiserates and licks some sauce off her chopstick. Her phone vibrates next to her on the couch, and she flips it over to read. It's a text from Peeta, and she has to press her lips together to keep from smiling too widely.

**Peeta M [Dec 6, 2014 7:48 pm]:** _Hey hope you're having a good time with your friend this weekend_

Katniss went to stay with Johanna at her place a few hours away from Panem through Sunday. Madge was supposed to join them too, but she had to bail at the last minute because of an unexpected work obligation.

Peeta follows up with a photo a moment later.

**Peeta M [Dec 6, 2014 7:49 pm]:** _This is how I'm spending my Friday night btw_

The photo is of a ripped flour bag on the floor in the back of the bakery. She can see the toes of his shoes at the bottom and a broom in the upper right corner.

**Katniss E [Dec 6, 2014 7:50 pm]:** _I thought you told me flour accidents never happen at your bakery._

**Peeta M [Dec 6, 2014 7:51 pm]:** _You just have that effect on me, I guess.  
I shouldn't text and bake at the same time apparently, so I should get back to cleaning. Just wanted to say hey._

**Katniss E [Dec 6, 2014 7:51 pm]:** _Thank you. I'll text you later?_

**Peeta M [Dec 6, 2014 7:52 pm]:** _Please do, preferably when all flour has been secured and I'm safely in my home._

She sends him a smiley face, which he mirrors with a winky face, and then she puts her phone back down. She feels Johanna's stare boring into her temple, and she glances at her. "What?"

But Johanna just shrugs and turns her attention back to the movie. "Nothing. Who you talking to?"

"Peeta," Katniss says hesitantly, bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught of questions. Johanna has been surprisingly mute the past month, not once inquiring about Peeta in the times they've texted.

"Cool," Johanna chirps nonchalantly and scoops some sticky rice into her mouth. Baffled, Katniss narrows her eyes at her friend and glares at her until she finally glances back at her. "What?" she asks innocently.

"Really,  _cool_? That's it?" Katniss repeats disbelievingly. "Where's all the questions about Peeta and my sex life? You normally can't wait to butt in to my business."

Johanna snorts. "Don't kid yourself, brainless. Your life isn't  _that_ interesting that I'm just  _dying_ to hear the rundown every time I see you." Katniss knows her friend isn't entirely serious, so she doesn't take offense. Still, she finds her disinterest hard to believe.

But Johanna adds, "Besides. I've figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

"Why you haven't said anything about having sex with Peeta yet." She pauses dramatically as if to make Katniss sweat it out before finishing, "The sex is bad."

Katniss' eyes widen. " _What_?"

Johanna shrugs like it's that simple. "The sex is terrible, and you're too embarrassed to talk about it. We've all been there. Well, not me because I have no shame, but for the common folk, I hear that's normal."

Katniss scowls, heat creeping up her neck. "No, that's not—you're wrong," she huffs. She takes a moment, twirling her chopsticks to wrap the lo mein noodles around them. But she doesn't really want Johanna to think Peeta's bad in bed—not that she knows personally yet—but still, she feels defensive. "I don't talk about it because...because we haven't done that yet," she explains quietly, staring at her takeout container so she doesn't see Johanna's eyes bulge.

"Hold the fucking phone!" she exclaims. "It's been—how long now? A month, month and a half? And you two still haven't fucked?!"

"Jeez, Jo, you don't have to shriek," Katniss gripes, shooting her a glare as she lifts the noodles to her mouth to eat. "A month and a half isn't  _that_ long—for normal people," she can't resist the dig before slurping the lo mein off the chopsticks.

"But  _why_? Do you not want to have sex with him?" Johanna demands, and Katniss rolls her eyes.

"Of course, I do. Why do you assume it's me who doesn't want to have sex?"

Her friend narrows her eyes suspiciously. "So you're saying  _Peeta_  doesn't want to have sex?"

"No..." Her ears are burning now. "He does." She's sure of it—after all, how many times has she felt his erection pressed against her when they're making out for hours on his couch, or when they're spooning in her bed after they've had a little too much to drink and she refuses to let him drive home? "We're just...taking it slow. He doesn't want to rush into sex."

Johanna's quiet as she mulls this over. "Huh," she grunts doubtfully. "So you two haven't done anything?"

"I didn't say that," Katniss hedges, glancing at the TV screen.

"How far has it gone? Oral? Anal?"

Her gray eyes cut to Johanna sharply. "Jesus, Jo, what exactly  _don't_ you consider sex?"

Johanna shrugs. "Everyone has different bars. Seriously, what have you two done?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Katniss folds her legs underneath her. "You know. The usual kind of stuff. We've made out. Fooled around." She hesitates because she's never been as forthcoming about sex stuff as her friends, and the words taste obscene on her tongue when she blurts, "He's fingered me and stuff. A few times."

Her friend's critical gaze is unnerving. "And? What else?"

Katniss lifts her shoulder noncommittally. "I dunno. Like I said, we've fooled around. I've touched him, we've, um—dry humped a little." Her cheeks inflame with the memory of their nights when things have gotten more than heated.

Johanna laughs abruptly. "Dry humped? What is this, high school?"

She knows her friend means it condescendingly, but Katniss smiles at that. "In a way, it kind of feels like it. I think it's kind of exciting."

"I had no idea you were such a sap, Everdeen," Johanna snorts, and Katniss rolls her eyes, but her smile lingers. "So it was his idea to wait?" Katniss nods. "And you're okay with that?"

She hesitates. It's not that she's  _not_ okay with it—it's just that if she could be having sex with him already, she knows she would be by now. "I think so. I mean, yes. I am. If it's what he wants. I don't want to pressure him, and if he's not comfortable, then...we can wait until he's ready." She spears a shrimp with her chopstick but doesn't eat it yet. Another smile crawls across her face. "I'm really happy, Jo. I get really excited whenever I talk to him or hang out with him. I get that, like, sick anxious feeling in my stomach whenever I see him. But in a good way. Like butterflies."

Johanna's face softens, and she nods thoughtfully. "I don't think I've seen you this giddy and stupid since you first dated Darius."

Darius was Katniss' last serious boyfriend, which ended the last semester of her senior year in college when he dumped her—which, thank god for small miracles. "Peeta is nothing like Darius, though," she argues. "And that's a good thing. It feels different. Better."

Johanna considers her as she taps her chopsticks to her lip. "Okay, so...who wrote his number on the bathroom wall then?" she inquires.

Katniss' hand falters as she raises the shrimp to her mouth. She almost forgot about that. "I, uh, have no idea."

"What? How do you not know?"

Katniss chews the shrimp slowly then swallows. "I haven't asked."

"You don't want to know who he's fucked?" Johanna asks suspiciously, and Katniss makes a face.

"No...I don't know? We just haven't had that conversation yet, about...past relationships." She doesn't mention how much she used to obsess over that very question a month ago. Now, she can't really stand the thought of Peeta with anyone else. "All he's said is that he's rusty at dating and relationships, so I figured that meant he hasn't dated in a while."

Johanna hums skeptically. "Dating, maybe, but it doesn't sound like he's rusty at sex."

Katniss knots her eyebrows together as she looks over at her. "What are you saying?" But Johanna just shrugs, settling back against the couch.

"Nothing. But I think if I were you, I'd want to know who's walking around the town where I live bragging about how she's fucked Peeta and you haven't."

* * *

Katniss is slipping on her ankle boots when she hears the knock on her front door. Her stomach pitches nervously, and she takes a cursory look in the mirror to approve her reflection. Her black hair is pulled back into a loose, braided updo, and she smooths her palms down the front of her short, red dress. It's tight and hugs every inch of her body—what it covers of her body, anyway. It's a dress she borrowed from Johanna before she came back home after her weekend out of town, and it hits mid-thigh, which puts her way out of her comfort zone. She also opted for no tights, leaving her legs bare.

She's nervous, unsure how Peeta's going to react. She's never worn anything this revealing around him before, since it's been relatively cool lately. Jeans and tops are normally more her speed, but Peeta invited her to his friends' Christmas party, and she wanted to step up her game. To make a good impression.

_Which means I shouldn't bend over too far,_  she thinks wryly, as she twists around to check out her ass and tug down on the hemline.

There's another knock, and she grabs her black silk kimono, throwing it on as she scurries out into the living room to answer the door. She smiles as soon as she sees Peeta on the other side. His face brightens but immediately goes slack, his jaw dropping as he takes her in.

"Oh my god," he groans, and, alarmed, she self-consciously pulls one side of her kimono closed over her stomach.

"What? Is it too much?" she frets, glancing down at herself, but Peeta practically bum rushes her, tipping her chin up with his finger so he can crush his mouth to hers. He swallows her gasp and devours her, their mouths slanting together as he tastes her like it's been longer than the two days since he last kissed her.

When he finally releases her, she can barely breathe, and she has to shake her head before she can find her voice again. "Where did that come from?" she rasps, the corners of her mouth twitching up in a dazed smile. She blinks up at him, close enough to make out every individual freckle on his nose and cheeks.

He licks his lips. "I'm sorry," he laughs hoarsely. "What I meant was,  _yes_ , it is too much, in a very good way."

Her eyebrows arch curiously. "Should I change then?" she asks, sweeping her gaze down to examine his attire. Her mouth goes dry as she admires the way his charcoal pea coat flatters the cut of his broad shoulders and chest. His red tie complements his light gray button-down underneath and his black slacks, not to mention how it unintentionally matches her dress, which she's oddly pleased about. His blond hair is finger-styled effortlessly, and her own fingers twitch to curl around the errant pieces framing his ears and curling out at the nape of his neck.

Peeta nods seriously, bracketing his hands around her hips and kicking the door shut behind him. "Yes. Actually, I think we should just stay here, forget the party, and you should just take that dress off. In fact, I can take off my clothes too, I'm starting to think I'm overdressed as well," he says before kissing her again, pulling her flush against him.

Katniss laughs breathlessly against his lips, heat unfurling low her in stomach at the implication behind his words. He might be half-serious, and she's tempted to give in, but suddenly she's nervous at the suddenness. Which outweighs her nervousness to meet his friends for the first time. She thinks she needs a couple hours to mentally prepare herself for the moment they finally have sex. Still, she gives into the kiss for a moment, stroking his tongue and letting him exhaust every corner of her mouth before she pushes on his chest lightly, digging her teeth into her bottom lip before smiling.

"I think that you look very handsome and that it would be a waste to not let you wear that outfit out anywhere," she teases, sliding his tie between her thumb and index finger.

"You've seen it, that's good enough," he murmurs against her neck, but then he sighs loudly and pulls back to look at her again, skimming his fingertips down her sides underneath her kimono. She tries not to squirm, the feeling both ticklish and enticing. "But you're right. I definitely wouldn't feel right keeping you to myself while you look like that."

"We don't have to stay long," she suggests, her pulse fluttering in excitement, and he nods eagerly.

"Yes, you know, I definitely feel like I'm going to start getting tired around, say, 11 o'clock?" he says questioningly, his mouth stretching into a grin when she laughs.

"Yeah, that's usually when it hits me too," she agrees and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

With a rough sigh, he steps away from her. "You ready to go then?" She nods, her eyes dropping to his shoes as she steps away from him.

"Your shoe is coming untied," she tells him and walks over to the dining table to grab her clutch. Peeta squats down to hastily retie the lace on his brown wingtip Oxford. Facing him again, she waits for him to finish, but he just stays kneeling as he admires her from the floor. He beckons for her to move closer, and, with eyebrows raised, she crosses to him. His hands wrap around her ankles before slowly sliding up her legs, mapping the lines of her calves and knees.

She can't help but laugh, a little nervously. "I just shaved, so you're welcome." He looks up at her with a grin, but his eyes darken as he slides his palms around the back of her thighs. His fingers graze underneath the hem of her dress, which has ridden up just a fraction more, and he pulls her closer.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" he asks, and her mouth ticks in an amused, fluttery smile.

"You have, many times." She doesn't get tired of hearing it though.

"Good, so I don't sound like a complete pig for telling you how  _hot_  you look right now, right?" he says, and she smiles.

"A little pig-ish, but I'll allow it," she concedes, pressing the tip of his nose up with her thumb so it flattens into the resemblance of a snout. He snorts out a laugh and shakes her off, pressing a kiss to the pad of her thumb. But then his hands gently palm her ass and force her against him, and her heart spikes into her throat when he presses another lingering kiss to her pelvis, right at the juncture of her thighs. Like a promise. Need pulses at her core, a direct line from where his mouth touches her to her clitoris, and she clenches her thighs together to chase the fleeting sensation. Instinctively, her fingers thread through his hair, and he tips his head back to look up at her, resting his chin against her pelvis.

"11 o'clock. That's only three hours we have to suffer through, right?"

"Right," she echoes on a short breath, her heart already pulsating erratically in her rib cage. Why did she not immediately take him up on his offer, again?

Groaning disappointingly, Peeta stands up and flashes her a contrite smile. "All right, let's go."

Nodding her head, Katniss shakily digs her keys out of her clutch and waves him toward the door. "Lead the way."

When they step out into the hallway, she locks the door behind her, and he slides his hand around her hip to get her attention as they begin walking. "By the way, if I wasn't obvious enough, I'm so ready to do you tonight."

She nearly trips on her neighbor's welcome mat, and when she whips her head around to glare incredulously at him, he makes a sheepish face. "Sorry, too much?"

"No, it was more your choice of words— _do you._ I don't think I've heard that since high school," she explains, a little frazzled.

"Fair enough. Would 'I'm so ready to fuck you' have been better?" he asks as they get onto the elevator, flashing her an innocent smile that she scowls at. When he turns his back to her to push for the ground floor, she fans her warm face.

"Maybe save the dirty talking for the bedroom," she mutters, and he turns back to her, his interest piqued.

"So you're into dirty talking, huh?" he muses, and she's too busy trying to swallow the dessert in her throat to even refute or confirm his claim. But he smiles, his blue eyes practically twinkling, and his voice lowers. "I'm going to have so much fun learning what you like in bed."

Katniss' head is still spinning when they exit her building to get in his car. How the hell is she going to concentrate at this stupid party with the prospect of fucking Peeta,  _finally_ , hanging over her head?

* * *

Katniss hovers around the buffet table, absently picking morsels of food from the varied plates of hors d'oeuvres. Crab puffs, chicken and veggie kabobs, cucumber rolls, chocolate truffles, cheesecake bites, apple and goat cheese tartlets. She knows Peeta made the tartlets, and she's pretty sure she's eaten half of them already.

It's safer around the buffet table. When her mouth is full of food, she doesn't have to engage in as much aimless small talk. It's not that she doesn't like Peeta's friends—the hosts, Finnick and Annie, are nice and funny—but she's always been uncomfortable with a lot of attention. And as the new girl in the crowd, particularly as Peeta's date, everyone wants to fawn over her or ask her questions.

And it's really hard to give a shit about what anyone talks about when she's far more interested in fantasizing about the myriad of ways Peeta can make her come later.

So she'd really rather just sample all the food while she daydreams.

Peeta does a good job of deflecting most of the attention and questions to himself, at least, which she appreciates, but every time he leaves her side to get a drink for her or himself, he ends up getting sidetracked for a few minutes as someone he knows ropes him into conversation. Thus leaving her open to attack.

"Peeta's such a great baker, isn't he?"

Like now. Katniss' ears perk up with mild dread, and she turns her head to find Annie smiling pleasantly at her. She gestures to the apple tartlet in Katniss' hand. "Oh—" Katniss wasn't even aware she started eating another one. She wonders if that's Annie's way of politely calling her out for stuffing her face all night. "Yeah, he's amazing. A good cook all around, too." As an afterthought, she adds, "All the food's good."

"Thanks. My truffles are a poor homage to Peeta's bakery's, but Finnick did a good job with the crab and the chicken and veggies," Annie says, stabbing a toothpick through a puff to pop it into her mouth. She chews, swallows, and continues talking, "He just bought a new grill, so this party was really just an excuse for him to use it."

Katniss gives her a small smile. "Well, it's good," she offers lamely. Her eyes sweep across the spread. "I've never had Peeta's truffles, so by default yours are the best."

"Well, I'll take it then," Annie laughs, and Katniss' smile widens.

"What are you two conspiring about?"

Peeta reappears, handing her a beer, and she smiles her thanks as he slides his hand around to her lower back.

"Oh, nothing. But you might want to watch your back—I'm coming for your job, Mellark," Annie threatens good-naturedly.

His eyebrows shoot up as he regards her. "Watch my back? Annie, I'd welcome it. You could finally free me up to take that trip to Europe I've been fantasizing about for four years now," he laughs, but Annie scoffs.

"No way, I think the people of Panem would string me up alive if I denied them the Mellark goods. They're irreplaceable."

Katniss sips her beer while the two of them banter, her thoughts sticking on Annie's words.  _The Mellark goods_. She remembers her conversation with Johanna a week ago, and she feels the familiar paranoia scratching at the edges of her mind.  _The Mellark goods_. Is there some kind of hidden meaning in that, a double entendre? Does everybody in this town know how amazing a lover he is  _but her_?

"Excuse me, it looks like I need to put out some more kabobs," Annie excuses herself to the kitchen, and Peeta cocks his head to look at Katniss, a lopsided grin lifting the corner of his mouth up.

"Is that your doing?" he asks. When he speaks, there's a faint smell of cinnamon. "The dearth of chicken kabobs."

She shrugs, a little embarrassed. "Probably. You keep leaving me alone with all the food though, so it's really your fault."

Now he looks sheepish. "Sorry about that, Finnick keeps wrangling me to sample his collection of bourbons and whiskeys, and he even made me take a Fireball shot with some of his work buddies," he explains, knocking back a hearty gulp of his own beer.

She makes a face. That explains the cinnamon aroma. "Fireball, must taste like college," she mutters and reaches over the table to pop a cucumber roll in her mouth.

"That was the last time I had this much alcohol, actually," Peeta laughs. "Since taking over the bakery, I've been too busy to drink and party, really."

Katniss hums thoughtfully and eyeballs him, tipping her beer back for a small sip. "Well, don't get too drunk on me," she keeps her voice low, leaning into his side. "I don't wanna feel like I'm taking advantage of you later."

His laugh rumbles low in his chest, his eyes darting around the room almost nervously before settling back on her, and he takes another swig of his beer. "Don't worry. I'll take it easy."

* * *

Peeta's "easy" is apparently four beers, one wassail, three shots, and countless sips of bourbon and whiskey. Katniss realized around 10 p.m. that he was officially drunk, so she stopped after her third drink, deciding she would have to be the one to drive them home.

Around 11:30, when she's exhausted every piece of small talk she has in her arsenal, and all the hors d'oeuvres have been eaten, Katniss goes in search of her date, crossing her fingers that he's ready to leave and that he remembered their plan. She finds him on the back porch with Finnick and a couple other men she was briefly introduced to earlier, Chaff and Haymitch, who are puffing away on cigars as the four of them laugh and excitedly talk over each other.

Putting on a pleasant expression, Katniss carefully wraps her hand around Peeta's wrist to get his attention. He jumps slightly and whirls around to face her, his eyes bright and glassy. His face lights up at the sight of her, though she knows immediately he's drunk by the way his blue irises shift before completely settling on her face.

"Katniss!" he exclaims, shaking her hand loose so he can sling his arm around her shoulders and pull her against his side.

She smiles tightly at the others when they acknowledge her, but when they resume whatever story they're in the middle of, she looks up at Peeta. "Having a good time?" she asks, and he nods enthusiastically.

"I'm havin' a great time," he agrees emphatically. His words slur tellingly. "You?"

She smiles. "Yeah," she says gently, choosing her words deliberately. "It's after 11."

"Ah." He doesn't seem to get her point until she lifts her eyebrows suggestively. "Oh! Yeah." He licks his lips and glances at his friends. "It's getting late, huh?"

"You two heading out?" Finnick interjects. "You okay to drive? You can crash here if you need to, we've got a guest room, couches, an air mattress."

"Oh," Peeta muses, looking to Katniss for confirmation. She has to actively fight the confusion from contorting her face. Is he actually wanting to stay here?

"Um, I'm okay to drive," she replies, glancing between the two of them. "I stopped drinking a while ago, so I'm just going to drive him back home. Is that...okay?" She directs the last part to Peeta, her eyebrow lifting slightly.

He smiles at her. "Yeah! Yeah, let's go. She's good to drive," he tells Finnick, and he steps toward the others to hug his friend and say his goodbyes to Haymitch and Chaff.

Katniss lifts her hand to bid Finnick farewell. "Thank you for having us, it was really great meeting you and Annie," she starts, but then she finds herself engulfed in Finnick's arms in a tight embrace.

"Take care of him, 'kay? He's a little blottoed," he laughs before pulling away. "And thanks for coming. We look forward to seeing you around more."

"You definitely will," Peeta adds, winding his arm around her waist. She mirrors the gesture and waves one more time before guiding him back inside. They say goodbye to Annie and a few other guests, and stop in the foyer to get Peeta's coat from the coat closet.

"Can I get your keys?" Katniss asks him as he struggles to get his arms into his sleeves, and after he's succeeded, he pats his pockets down until he finds the keys and fishes them out to hand to her.

"You sure you're comfortable drivin' my car?" he needles as they step outside, and she holds onto his hand, just in case. She's not sure how stable he'll be on steps.

"As long as it's got a steering wheel, a gas pedal and brakes, yeah, I think I'll be fine," she retorts, and he laughs, threading his fingers through hers until she has to let him go to get into the car. She adjusts the driver's seat and the mirrors while he jabs his seatbelt once, twice, into the buckle before it will click. Starting the car, she watches him with thinly veiled amusement. "You okay there?"

He jerks his head up. "Yeah! Yeah," he laughs airily, thumping his head back on the headrest. "Sorry you're having to DD. I didn't plan on—on drinking so much. Sorry."

She just shrugs and carefully peels away from the curb, keeping a lasered focus on the road before her. "It happens."

"You're so nice," he says suddenly, and she glances at him from the corner of her eye, surprised. "And funny. And smart. And passionate. And cute." A blush ignites her cheeks. It's not unusual for him to compliment her, but for some reason, the fact that it's Peeta saying these things always manages to make her feel self-conscious and flustered. But before she can voice her thanks, he continues, "You look so cute drivin' my car."

She can't help but laugh at that. "Why? You think it's cute when women try to drive?" she taunts.

"No! No, no, no," he laughs again, and he extends his arms out to gesture to his car, sweeping his hands over the dashboard and console. "You just look so...at home driving my car. That's why it's cute."

She considers his words as she turns down a street. There's a warm sensation budding in her stomach, but she doesn't know how to respond. "You sure you're not just super drunk?" she jokes, and he chuckles.

"No. I mean, kinda." He sighs and closes his eyes. "College me would be very appalled at the deteriorating state of my alcohol tolerance."

"But your liver is probably grateful overall," she says, and he snorts before falling silent. She glances over at him periodically as she navigates them back to his house, watching his face relax and his mouth fall open as he drifts off. Once she reaches his place about 20 minutes later, she gently wakes him, and he comes to groggily. "We're home."

Mentally, she kicks herself because  _home_ implies it's her place as well, but Peeta's too blitzed to notice or care. She meets him on his side of the car as he clambers out, and she steadies him with a hand on his arm when he stumbles on the stoop. "Totally the sidewalk's fault," she jokes lightly when he makes a face at her, then she holds out his keys to his house. "Which one's the key to the front door?"

He squints at them, the tip of his tongue cutely poking between his teeth with his deep focus, and he wraps a hand around hers and the ring of keys as if to feel them. "Got it," he declares, taking it and jamming it into the lock, twisting hard to fling the door open. "You comin'?" he calls to her, fumbling to turn on the inside lights.

"Um..." She hesitates on the front step, though it's not like she can go anywhere else, since she doesn't have her car here. When he picks up on her uncertainty, he whirls around, his brow knotted in confusion. "Yeah, if you want me to."

"Of course!" He pulls her inside to shut the door behind them, and his voice drops just slightly as he runs his hands up her arms. "We have plans, right?"

She lifts her eyebrows. "Are you sure you still want to?" With as much as he drank, she's not entirely sure tonight is the best night to consummate their relationship, after all. "It's really fine if you're not—"

"No! I mean, yes, of course, I wanna," he exclaims, and he lightly presses his lips to hers, tentative at first until he feels her responding, then he deepens the kiss, their tongues soon sliding together languidly as she wraps her arms around his neck, and he locks his around her waist. She moans, feeling the slickness pool steadily between her legs; his cock twitches against her stomach. When they break apart to breathe, he licks her saliva off his lips and lets his palms skim over her curves. "You are unbelievably sexy in this dress," he murmurs, releasing her to take off his coat and lead her down the hallway to his bedroom. She follows him, their fingers loosely linked together; she tosses her clutch down on a side table as they pass it. With each step she can feel her heart rate starting to spike, and she forces herself to take deep breaths.

Which is pointless because, once in his room, he kisses her again until they're both breathless again, then he sits down on the edge of his bed heavily, pulling her toward him. But she stops him, suddenly feeling like she needs a moment to gather her thoughts and do some last-second primping.

"I, uh, just need to use the bathroom real quick. I'll be right back," she whispers, pushing off the bed to cross over to his bathroom.

"I'll be here," he says softly, and she gives him a quick smile before shutting the door. Switching the light on, she uses the bathroom and toes off her boots while washing her hands. Then she scrutinizes her reflection, blotting some of the excess oil off her forehead and nose with a tissue, brushing back some loose wisps of hair framing her face. Before she steps out, she shrugs out of her kimono and drapes it on the sink counter.

Opening the door, Katniss pads back out into his bedroom, careful to add a deliberate sway to her hips.

But she pulls up short when she sees Peeta sprawled out on his back on his bed, his eyes closed.

"Peeta?" she asks, raising her voice, but he doesn't respond.

He passed out.

She exhales an exasperated puff of air and drops her head back to lift her eyes to the ceiling, almost in amusement because  _of course._

"Peeta?" she tries again, climbing onto the bed with him, but still nothing. Sighing in resignation, she carefully takes his shoes off and even unfastens his pants to slide them down his hips and off his legs to make him more comfortable; she can't help the brief look of longing as she passes over his groin. He doesn't budge at all while she undresses him for sleep, loosening his tie to slip it over his head and unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the white undershirt. Once he's taken care of, she unravels her hair from its plaited updo and finds a t-shirt in his dresser she can sleep in. As she peels off her dress, she thinks fleetingly about how much nicer it would have been if it had actually been Peeta undressing her tonight.

_Maybe tomorrow night,_  she thinks brusquely after she's slipped into his shirt and climbed into bed beside him.  _And if not then, the night after that. Or the night after that._

She is determined to make this happen. One way or another, they are going to fuck.

* * *

" _Ughhhh._ "

Katniss is awaken by Peeta's garbled, pained groan. Rolling over to face him, she catches a brief glimpse of the time. 6:23 a.m.

Christ, even hungover, he keeps his baker's hours.

Wiping the amused thought from her mind, Katniss shifts onto her elbow. "Feeling okay there, drunkie?"

Peeta's face is half-buried in his pillow, but he cracks an eye open to squint at her. "Katniss?" he croaks out, and she rubs sleepily at her eyes, digging her fingers into the corners. There's really no attractive way to dig sleep crud out of your eyes.

"Yeah. I hope it's okay that I stayed. I didn't have a way home," she says softly, running the tip of her tongue over the front of her teeth. She wishes she had finger-scrubbed some toothpaste on them last night, at least.

He continues to squint at her as he tries to process the situation. "Yeah, of course," he coughs, but then he sits up slightly, his eyes widening. "Shit. Last night..." He groans, sitting up fully and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, but he drops his head into his hands. "Fuck. I passed out, didn't I?"

Katniss sits up as well, folding her legs in front of her. "Yeah." She absent-mindedly runs a hand through her hair, trying to comb out the knots and tangles.

Peeta groans again. "God. I've never liked bourbon."

She smiles to herself. "I don't think it likes you very much, either."

He sighs heavily. "Katniss...I am so sorry. For getting that drunk. I'm incredibly embarrassed at my behavior," he swears quietly, and she shrugs uncomfortably even though he can't see her.

"S'okay. We've all been there."

He twists around to face her. His face is pale, almost gray, and his mouth is twisted in contrition. "But I put you in a shitty position, and...I know last night was supposed to—I mean, we were supposed to...it was supposed to be special," he finishes, fumbling with his words.

She tightens a lock of hair around her finger and releases it, repeating the gesture. "It's okay," she repeats. She's disappointed—sexually frustrated out the ass, really—but she's not mad. "I'll try not to take it personally," she adds, trying to ease the mood. He quirks a small smile at her, but he winces slightly, looking away. Her mouth settles into a frown. "What?"

He scrubs a hand through his hair, messing his curls up even more. "I guess I just got nervous last night, at the prospect of you and I...so I thought alcohol would help me relax. But then I guess I drank too much..."

She slowly folds her arms over her stomach, confused. "Why were you so nervous?" she asks skeptically. She understands having nerves about it; she did,  _does_ , but she doesn't feel like she needs to liquor herself up to get through the act or something. Maybe she  _should_ take it personally.

After a moment of tense silence, Peeta takes a deep breath and releases it, hard, finally meeting her gaze. "Look, Katniss. There's something I should tell you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger. Only one more chapter left, and it shouldn't take too long to finish! Come talk to me on tumblr: mellarkedgoods. I changed my URL.


	6. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Everyone had their own rather creative guesses about why Peeta was so freaked out about having sex with Katniss and what he was hiding—I wasn't prepared for all the speculation! So I really hope you guys find the conclusion satisfying. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, it means a lot to me! I've got another story in the works, and I hope to start publishing it soon. Find me on tumblr: muttpeeta.

The dread is so swift and awful in her stomach, Katniss is afraid she might actually throw up.

_There's something I should tell you._

Nothing good ever follows a declaration like that. Intentionally or not, Peeta pauses while he searches for his words, and even in that brief moment, Katniss' mind is spinning with all the different possibilities of what, exactly, he thinks he needs to tell her.

_Katniss, I'm gay. And being with you helped me realize it. Thank you._

_Katniss, I'm actually married and have three children in a different town._

_And also, you are not the only woman I'm having an affair with._

When he doesn't finish quickly enough for her liking, her defenses kick in, stoking red-hot coals of anger in her breast. "Well,  _what_?" she snaps at him, and he swallows, scratching at the side of his neck. She wonders if she's imagining the sheen of perspiration dotting his hairline.

"Well...I've...had a crush on you as long as I can remember."

It's so not what she's expecting him to say that it takes her a moment to register what he's even said. Actually, she's not even sure that's the secret he  _means_  to tell her. " _What?_ " she finally asks. It sounds like a bird squawking.

He meets her gray eyes, slanted in confusion and irritation. "Remember how I told you about preschool? When we were in the same class?" he says, and she nods slowly. "I've liked you since then. Through elementary school, middle school, high school. Guess I kind of got a reprieve in college since you weren't around." His mouth twitches in a quick smile, but when she just stares at him, he drops his gaze and picks at the comforter. "Well, anyway. I felt like I needed to admit that. I didn't want to freak you out in the beginning by telling you all this. I was afraid you'd find it creepy that I, ah...harbored these feelings for you all this time. Especially when we never even talked in school."

_Creepy_. Creepy isn't the word for what she's thinking.  _Improbable_ is more like it.

"You picked up my pencil for me one time in class," she whispers dumbly because it's all she can think to say at the moment.

He nods. "That's right. Guess I should've started laying the groundwork then, huh?"

"I thought you were just being nice."

"Well, I wish I could say it was all part of some long con to meet up with you again seven years later, but really, I'd just been watching you chew on that eraser for 15 minutes straight when you'd dropped it," he says, his tone wry.

She inhales deeply, still reeling. She actually feels light-headed. So she's supposed to believe that the guy she was crushing on in high school also had a crush on her. But neither of them knew it. How the hell does that work? She almost wants to laugh.

Actually, she does laugh. She starts laughing so hard that tears bead in the corners of her eyes. "Oh my god," she gasps, choking on air and spittle. "This is so—so  _stupid_."

He makes a face to disguise the hurt in his eyes. "Please elaborate."

Sniffling, she wipes at her eyes and throws her hands up, exasperated. "You just scared the shit out of me, Peeta!  _There's something I need to tell you._ Jesus Christ! I thought it was something serious! You had a crush on me? I had a crush on  _you_! This is so ridiculous!" she laughs again, because it  _is_. They've been dancing around each other all this time when they've actually both been on the same page.

Peeta looks stunned. "I'm sorry—what? You  _liked_  me in high school?" She nods, still shaking with quiet, periodic giggles. "How?" he asks, mystified.

She shoots him an incredulous look, gesturing to him. " _How_? Look at you! Everybody loved you! I mean, you were popular and athletic and good-looking, how the hell could you have a crush on  _me_? I was surly and standoffish and just—I should have been so far off your radar in school!"

He shrugs and smiles at her, but bewilderment still masks his eyes. "I think by definition crushes are illogical."

At that, her laughter stops, and she scowls at him. "Thanks."

His eyes widen, and he laughs as he backtracks. "No! I mean—I don't know how to explain a crush. It just, it's been there as long as I can remember. I was absolutely intimidated by you."

"Intimidated," she repeats dubiously. It's  _absurd_.

"Too intimidated to talk to you then, in school. God, I think that just attracted me to you even more—which should probably be a little concerning," he muses flippantly before shaking his head. "When I saw you again in Ripper's...I don't know. For so long, I was so mad at myself for not trying to talk to you in school. And suddenly here was this opportunity to fix all that, and there was no way in hell I was going to let that pass. But...honestly, I'm still intimidated by you."

Katniss stares at him uncomprehendingly. "What do you mean? Why?"

He sighs and rubs his fingers over his brow. "The first time I see you again, it's because somebody's written my name in a bathroom stall. About my alleged sexual prowess. And suddenly, I can only imagine you have all these assumptions and expectations about me, and...there's no way I can live up to them."

Her eyes widen. "Peeta..."

He looks embarrassed, focusing his eyes elsewhere. "I want to have sex with you, so bad, Katniss. You have no idea. It's something I've thought about since it even occurred to me that I could have sex.  _Again_ —really not trying to freak you out. And then, here's the girl of my dreams, and she wants to be with me—I think—but she probably thinks I'm supposed to be this animal in the bedroom and...I'm scared as shit of disappointing you, of ruining this." He tips his head back in exasperation. "I mean,  _best sex of your life_. Fuck. As if performance anxiety isn't already a real thing!" His knee is bouncing anxiously, shaking the whole mattress.

"Peeta...I don't..." Her words falter. She doesn't know what to say because she realizes she can't exactly refute it; she  _has_  made assumptions because of that stupid bathroom stall message.

He finally meets her eyes again. "Katniss, I haven't dated since I started business school. It's been that long. I haven't had the time, or, really, the interest," he says solemnly. "I have no idea who would have written that about me, but...to be perfectly honest, I haven't even had sex in two years, since I ended things with my ex-girlfriend."

She stares at him a moment before she replies. "Me neither, actually. It's been that long for me too—longer, maybe," she admits, twisting the sheets around her fingers nervously.

He exhales heavily, looking away again. "Well. That's everything I wanted to tell you. I just keep psyching myself out every time we get physical," he says, almost to himself, like he's scolding himself. "I want this to work, Katniss. I want a relationship with you. I just...wanted to be sure that was a possibility before we had sex. But now I've put it off so long that I've freaked myself out even more. Like the longer we wait, the more mind-blowing it's supposed to be or something," he laughs faintly, glancing at her.

She licks her lips, knitting her brow together in consternation. "Peeta. I hope you know that's not...that's not why I texted you that night."

He raises his eyebrows as he looks over at her. "You didn't. Your friend did."

She rolls her eyes, smiling faintly. "Well. Maybe that's why Johanna texted you. But that's not why I  _talked_ to you that night. With any sort of expectations of sex or something like that. I just...wanted to talk to you, finally." She shrugs shyly. "Admittedly...I did start to get a  _little_ jealous of the women you've slept with. I felt like I was missing out, I guess."

"You really should lower your expectations," he jokes self-deprecatingly, then his face sobers, and he reaches across the bed to delicately wrap his hand around hers. "I should have just told you this sooner. I'm really sorry about last night."

She curls her fingers around his, scratching her thumbnail along the cuticle of his thumb. "Well. Now we can start fresh. Leave the expectations behind. And...it'll happen when it happens," she shrugs, and he squeezes her hand to make her look up at him.

"It's going to happen," he swears, and he glances at the clock, his face creasing with defeat. "I gotta open the bakery soon." Unfortunately, it's the one Sunday of the month that he opens the bakery instead of having one of his employees do it.

She nods. "Can you drive me back home before you do?"

Peeta stands up from the bed slowly, like he's afraid of aggravating his hangover, then he turns to face her. "Yeah, let me just shower real quick, see if that doesn't help. I don't want to reek of booze at work," he says sheepishly, and she lies back down to close her eyes for a little while longer while he showers, to ruminate on his confession.

* * *

Two coffees in hand, Katniss pushes the door of the coffee shop open with her hip and slips outside onto the sidewalk. While one cup is her usual—half almond milk, two sugars—the other is straight black, exactly how Peeta likes to drink it. Figuring he could use a pick-me-up as he struggles through his hangover at work, she heads to the bakery now to intercept him after lunch time, when the lunch crowd at the bakery will have dispersed for the usual mid-afternoon lull.

As she walks down the sidewalk, she thinks about her conversation with Peeta this morning. She still finds it inconceivable that he's liked her all this time. Since he was  _4 years old_.

"Girl of his dreams," he called her. It's a sweet, flattering sentiment, and she even feels a little giddy at the thought, but at the same time, it's daunting. It fills her with a sense of foreboding.

He's worried he won't live up to her expectations? How is she supposed to live up to  _his_? If he's fantasized this long about having sex with her...he's gotta have some expectations of his own. And nobody's exactly recommending her sexual expertise in bathrooms around town, so she's probably got more to worry about than he does.

"Ugh," she mutters to herself, shaking her head as if she can dislodge the thought, and takes a sip of her coffee; the hot liquid scalds her tongue, but she ignores it. She's trying not to obsess. After their discussion this morning, the progress they made, it would probably be ironic, and cosmically shitty, if she were to become the gun-shy one in the bedroom now.

It's really not that hard for a woman to be good in bed, anyway. Right?

She tries to reassure herself with this thought.

Reaching Peeta's bakery, Katniss peers into the large store-front windows as she passes by them on her way to the door. But she stops suddenly, her eyes narrowing at the sight of Peeta embracing a blonde woman. Confused, she takes a step back so she's not in view but can still see them.

He's smiling and laughing, releasing the woman. Katniss can only see the back of her head, her short bob bouncing as she talks and gestures animatedly to Peeta, who watches her with an amused, tender expression Katniss can't decipher.

Jealousy sprouts in her chest, shooting roots into the pit of her stomach, and she clutches the two coffees to her bosom as she continues to spy on them. A hundred different scenarios flit through her mind, about who the woman is, what they're doing, what Peeta's hiding, and her teeth start to grind together in anger when, abruptly, the woman turns to a stroller and hefts a baby out, delicately handing the squirming mass of pudgy limbs and wispy blond hair over to Peeta.

_What the hell?_

Baffled, Katniss crosses the few strides to the front door and somehow manages to fling it open despite the coffees in her hands.

Peeta's head jerks up at the commotion, the baby cradled against his chest, and his eyebrows shoot up at the sight of her. "Katniss!"

She stops abruptly in her tracks, parsing his reaction. He's not scared or concerned. He's surprised but smiling, like he's genuinely happy to see her.

"Wait— _Katniss_?"

That's when Katniss gets a look at the blonde woman, who whips around to face her.

Delly Cartwright.

_Oh my god, of course,_  Katniss screams at herself, almost doubling over in relief.

"Oh my god!" Delly echoes her thoughts, her head snapping back and forth between the two of them. "Katniss, from high school? I didn't know—wait, are you two  _dating_?"

Peeta laughs nervously, bouncing the baby in his arms before bending over to place it back in the stroller. "Uh, yeah, Dell, we are," he replies, arching an eyebrow at Katniss. Unsure what to do, she shuffles toward him haltingly. She's still trying to process the situation, and when she stops at Peeta's side, she looks over at Delly, who looks laughably shocked. Peeta grabs Katniss' attention, and she glances back at him. "Hey, I wasn't expecting you to stop by," he says, and she shoves his cup of coffee at him.

"I thought I'd see how you were feeling, bring you some caffeine to see if it would help," she mumbles, and he accepts it from her, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

"Thank you," he starts, but a weird squeak startles them, and they both look over at Delly, who's completely slack-jawed.

"Oh my god—Peeta! I can't believe you didn't tell me about this!" she accuses shrilly, one hand darting out to smack his arm before planting on her hip. "When did this happen?!"

He makes a face as he looks at Katniss, almost apologetically, and rubs his arm where Delly smacked him. "I guess it's been a month and a half now? Almost two months. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Dell, I guess I just kinda got swept up in it..." He smiles sweetly at Katniss, who ducks her head, taking a sip of her coffee to hide her embarrassment.

"Oh, I guess it's my fault," Delly sighs dramatically. "I've been so busy, I haven't even tried to call you or see you until now—"

"Dell, you just had a baby a few months ago," he interjects, and Katniss' eyes drop to the bundle of blond hair and bright blue eyes and plump cheeks wriggling in the stroller. She then sees the diamond ring on Delly's hand when she reaches out to rock the stroller.

Maybe it's not Cartwright anymore, after all.

"I'm glad you stopped by," Peeta continues. "I'm sorry I haven't come to see you and Jordan since the birth—"

She waves him off, stopping him. "Stop, it's fine, it's fine! I've been pretty oblivious to everyone lately, but I can't believe I missed out on this!" Katniss lifts her eyebrows curiously when Delly gestures between the two of them wildly. "It's  _Katniss_ , Peeta! You had the biggest crush on her in school!"

Katniss blushes almost as hard as Peeta does, and she locks eyes with him. He grimaces at her humorously. "Glad I told you about that before Delly could, I guess."

"Oh, sorry!" Delly looks horrified, but she giggles. "It's true, though. He was so moony over you back then. I kept trying to convince him to just  _talk_ to you, but he was too scared."

Katniss bites down on her lip, and she shoves her free hand into her coat pocket, her other hand cradling the coffee cup to her stomach. "Yeah, the feeling was kind of mutual. I, um, had a bit of a crush on him too."

Delly's eyes go round. "Are you serious? How perfect! This is like a movie or something! So how did this happen? How did you two meet up again?"

Peeta and Katniss share another look, and she lifts her eyebrows in question. Shaking his head, he chuckles and gives a small shrug of his shoulders. "Yeah, go ahead and tell her. Might as well."

Katniss shifts her eyes back to Delly, smiling. "Well, actually...I saw his name and phone number written on a bathroom stall advertising  _the best sex of your life_ , and my friend thought it would be hilarious to text him from my phone," she laughs awkwardly. "He came down to the bar all pissed off, but we talked and..." She lifts her shoulders in a shrug there, throwing a soft smile at Peeta, but when she glances back at Delly, she's confused to see her look of horror.

"Oh my god," she squeaks, covering her mouth. Katniss' brow knots together.

"What?"

Delly's cheeks bloom red, and her eyes dart between the two of them. "Oh my god, Peeta—I'm so sorry."

Peeta looks baffled. "Why? What are you talking about?"

She drops her hand from her mouth and reaches out toward him. "Okay, okay—don't be mad at me—it obviously worked out well for you—"

"Delly,  _what_?" he stresses impatiently.

Her mouth stretches in a grimace. "Well...I was the one who wrote your name in the bathroom. At The Hob, right?"

Peeta's face blanches, and Katniss just purses her lips together uncertainly, glancing between them. This should be interesting. "Delly,  _what_? Why would you do that?!" he hisses, struggling to keep his voice from rising.

She presses her hands to her cheeks before waving them wildly. "I don't know! I was a little drunk—it had been my first night out since having Jordan, I forgot how crazy Manhattans make me! But I just got to thinking about you, and you hadn't been on a date in  _so_  long, and I just thought you deserved a little attention, Peeta! You work so hard!"

"And you thought having random women call me for sex was the best way to get me attention?" he asks, his voice tight.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Delly huffs, and Katniss frowns.

"Hey, I didn't call him for  _sex_ ," she interjects, offended, and Delly looks at her apologetically.

"Sorry, I just meant—Peeta's so work-oriented and selfless, I just thought, if he didn't have the time to date, he could at least, you know...get laid," she explains sheepishly, and he groans loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I told you I was drunk! I realized it was stupid the next day, and I was going to go back to the bar to see if I could wash it off or something, but by the time I could get back there, it had already been erased. So I figured, hey, no harm done! And look, something good came out of it! You two are dating! So, really, you should be throwing me a parade."

Peeta's gaze cuts to her sharply. "Don't push it, Dell." She pouts, and he sighs, his face softening. "Okay. You're right. No harm done. And you did unwittingly set me up with this amazing woman," he says, reaching his hand out to slide around Katniss' hip, and she smiles shyly at him. "So...yeah. I guess I should thank you."

Delly squeals quietly, clapping her hands together, which ends up startling her baby. "Oh god, okay," she sighs, frazzled, rocking the stroller to calm Jordan down when he starts to cry. "Well, I gotta get going, it's time to feed him. I just wanted to stop in and see you."

Peeta lets go of Katniss, grabbing a brown paper bag off the counter to hand to her. "And to pick up some beignets."

"The best beignets in Panem," Delly quips, and Peeta smiles, shaking his head.

"The only beignets in Panem."

"Still." She embraces Peeta, hugging him tightly. "Oh, I'm so happy for you, Peeta." When she steps back, she turns to Katniss and pulls her into a hug too. "And you! It was so good to see you again." Katniss returns the hug, even though she barely knows the woman, because she really is grateful for her meddling. "You've got yourself a good one," Delly whispers in her ear, pulling back with a wink.

Katniss smiles at her. "I know," she agrees, looking over at Peeta. He mirrors her smile.

"Well, don't be a stranger, Peeta, and you too, Katniss. Oh! We should have a double date sometime with the three of us and Andrew. I'll call you to set it up, I promise," Delly says excitedly, and Peeta hugs her one more time with the promise to talk to her soon, letting Jordan grab his finger and kissing his tiny hand before Delly pushes the stroller out the bakery door.

Katniss chews on the lid on her coffee cup as Peeta turns back to face her and scrubs a hand through his hair. "Well," he exhales roughly, and she laughs faintly. She wonders if her relief is as palpable as his is.

"Well," she echoes, and he shakes his head.

"It was Delly," he says, like he can't quite believe it. "I've never had sex with her, by the way. Just in case you were wondering. So you definitely shouldn't put any stock in her opinion."

Katniss smiles. "Maybe you should send her a thank you card," she suggests before sipping her coffee, and he laughs.

"Maybe," he says, taking a long swig of his own coffee then licking his lips. "Man. I don't know what to say. Actually...I'm kind of relieved."

She stares at him thoughtfully as she considers this and nods slowly. "It kind of takes the pressure off of...everything," she says cautiously, and that makes him go silent as he thinks about it too, his eyes fixed on her. After a moment, he speaks.

"It does, doesn't it?" he agrees, his voice low and firm. The intensity in his stare thickens as they hold each other's gaze, and then he takes a step closer. "Katniss—"

The bell chimes suddenly as a customer walks into the bakery, and her shoulders jump, her body tensing. Peeta suddenly looks agitated, too, even as he greets the other woman politely. He looks back to Katniss. "Are you gonna hang around for a moment?" he asks her, and she nods resolutely.

"Yeah, I'll stay," she breathes out.

With his own nod, Peeta circles around the counter to assist the customer, and Katniss nervously gulps down the rest of her coffee, cringing as it burns through her chest. That's going to come back as indigestion later. Once it's emptied, she tosses the cup in a trashcan and paces the shop anxiously, pretending to check out all the pastries in the display cases while Peeta converses with the customer and pulls out all her selected treats to wrap and bag.

Katniss isn't even aware the customer has left until she hears the bell chime, startling her. She spins around to find Peeta still on the other side of the register, his hands braced against the counter. He's staring at her so intently, the blue irises stealing her breath like ice cold water on her skin.

A beat later, he moves, stalking toward her. She can't even breathe until he's in front of her, a few agonizing inches away from her. His chest expands with his hard, deep breath, and he licks his lips, and still they don't speak for another moment, when Peeta's eyes cut to the front of the store. He runs a hand through his curls.

"I can flip the sign. Close the bakery. At least until Rue gets back from her lunch break, which is—" he pulls his phone out of his back pocket to check the time, "—30 minutes from now."

"Okay," she chokes out. He could ask her to strip naked and pose in front of the windows right now, and she'd probably do it. There's an unexpected and inexplicable ferocity to him in this moment, a fire behind his eyes like one of his ovens in the back, and she's eager to let the flames consume her,  _finally_.

But they're still staring at each other, both perched like a prey ready to flee, or a predator ready to pounce, and then finally Peeta sucks in a sharp breath, his body jerking toward the front door as if pulled by strings. "Okay," he barks, and she startles, darting behind the counter. She hears the clunk of the dead bolt locking, the slap of plastic against the plexiglass as he hastily flips the sign, and she disappears into the backroom. Trays and shelves of dough and uncooked pastries line the walls like carefully arranged obstacles surrounding the many ovens and refrigerators.

She shrugs off her coat, whirling around when she hears Peeta's heavy footsteps behind her. He kicks at the door stopper wedged under the door, letting it swing shut, and then he's on her before her coat even hits the ground, dragging his lips and tongue across hers. He swallows her moan, and she nearly trips over her jacket as he pushes her backward, roughly pressing her against a stack of large flour bags. It's chest level, so he wrenches his mouth away from hers briefly to heave a few bags onto the floor. One splits at the seam, dusting the floor in flour, but he just hoists her onto the stack and captures her mouth in another bruising kiss.

She can barely keep up with him, so she just lets him take over, touching every crevice of her mouth that he can, in a way familiar to her now—but he's never been quite this demanding before, quite this needy. She fists his apron in her hands to pull him closer, needing to feel the strong, firm lines and planes of his body against hers, and she opens her legs to him, her hips a cradle for his. But it's not close enough.

Peeta seems to sense this too, because he abruptly breaks the kiss and begins tugging at her shirt. Their breaths are hot and sticky between the two of them, the air made steamy with their pants and the heat of the ovens, as they paw at each other's clothes. They get his apron off, whipping it halfway across the room, and she unfastens her pants. Her boots fall to the floor with two successive thumps, and she lifts her hips up so he can reach behind her and rip her jeans down her hips and off her legs. The denim catches on her left foot and hangs there, her panties too, and he jerks her to the edge of the flour bag.

The silence is thick and tenuous, disturbed only by his heavy breathing as he yanks his pants button apart and rips the fly down one-handed. Katniss pulls his thin cotton shirt up, just so she can feel the heat of his bare skin on her palms, and he reaches underneath the waistband of his boxer-briefs to pull his stiff cock out. The tip is pink and leaking with pearly precum, the shaft engorged, and she stretches the fabric of his shirt desperately, letting out a low groan, like he's already inside her.

She tries to pull him closer, to feel him against her, and he cups her ass to oblige, but his hand pushes on her inner thigh suddenly to stop her, his fingers digging into her flesh. "I don't—I don't have a condom here," he grits out, his eyes squeezing shut like it pains him, and she frantically tries to remember if she put a condom in her purse at any point. But his hand moves to her center, his fingers gliding up her folds, through the slickness budding there, and she arches toward him with a gasp. "We can just..." He doesn't finish his thought, dipping two fingers inside her to pump in and out, the tip of his thumb rubbing her clit.

Her head falls back out of habit as she revels in the sensation, but it's not enough. She needs something more now. Something  _bigger,_ harder. She tips her chin back down to look at him, unable to stop undulating her hips to meet the rhythm of his fingers moving in and out of her, but his fingers eventually stop when he looks up at her. "We can just do it," she blurts. They had the requisite discussion about birth control and STDs a couple weeks ago, so he knows she's on the pill, and they've both established they're clean.

His eyes go wide, but he nods eagerly. "Okay—I mean, you're sure?" he asks, and the desperation she can hear in his voice is as raw as her own.

She nods, her head bobbing up and down frantically. "I need it," she pleads, and he hurriedly pulls his fingers out of her so he can grab his cock and position it at her entrance. She angles her hips toward the edge of the sack, inhaling sharply when his tip catches the hood of her clit, and then he's pushing into her, jerking her hips closer so he can sink into her completely. Her mouth stretches with a silent gasp, just as her walls stretch around the girth and length of him, and he groans wetly against her neck, panting.

He's thick, hard, uncomfortable,  _wonderful_.

"Oh my god," he whimpers, echoing the words stuck in her throat. He starts moving then, thrusting shallowly and carefully until she's adjusted and relaxed around him, and she holds onto his shoulders, her hands curling into fists around the neckline of his shirt.

Then he's moving hard and fast, fucking her just like she needs, like they both need. Each push inside her rips a moan from her lips, and he buries his face in the hollow of her neck, one hand wrapped around her thigh to yank her hips against his as he pounds into her, the other hand snaking underneath the collar of her shirt and bra to squeeze her breast roughly. The tops of his thighs hit the sacks of flour with each thrust, rapid thumps punctuating his grunts and her cries.

"Fuck—oh fuck, Katniss," he suddenly gasps, his teeth bearing down on her collarbone, his next declaration, "I'm coming," muffled against her flesh, and he jerks into her a couple times before going still and burying himself inside her.

"Oh," she squeaks, her chest heaving as she goes rigid against him, her eyes snapping open wide. She feels his cock pulsing inside her, fluttering against her walls as he rides out his orgasm, and she blinks incredulously.

That was...fast.

Neither of them move for a moment, though she can feel the tenseness of his muscles too, and finally he steps back just slightly to let his cock slide out of her. She glances at him, catching the grimace on his face, and he tucks himself back into his underwear. "Fuck, sorry," he coughs out sheepishly, and she snaps her thighs shut when she feels his cum beginning to seep out of her due to the angle of her hips. She uncurls her fingers from his shirt to release him, grabbing the bag underneath her to balance herself now that his body isn't propping her up, and he roughly runs a hand through his damp curls. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "That did not go quite how I wanted it to."

She tries to mask the wince on her own face, pursing her lips. "It's okay," she whispers, a little dazed. "Um, guess it was kind of supposed to be rushed. We're in a bakery."

He smiles, though it's humorless, and he slides a palm over her thigh. "Let me get you off," he says, and her thighs start to fall open with the responding throbbing in her clit, reminding her of her forgotten orgasm, but then she shakes her head, suddenly very aware of where they are. The moment's over.

"No, it's okay," she protests, ignoring the almost painful ache between her thighs. Peeta looks confused, and she smiles at him, cringing from embarrassment. "Your, um, Rue will be back any minute, right? We should clean up."

"Katniss," he starts uncertainly, and she squeezes his hand on her thigh to reassure him.

"It's fine. We can just...try again later."

He still looks a little wounded, but he eventually nods and takes another step back. "Okay," he agrees quietly, and they start straightening up, putting their clothes back in place. He helps her down from the stack of flour, and she grabs a broom while he tosses the bags he knocked over back onto the pile. But he takes the broom from her. "I got it, it's fine. You don't have to stay."

She stares at him, his clothes and apron still slightly tousled, his cheeks flushed pink, his eyes glassy and cloudy, his curls unruly and damp with perspiration. She's sure she looks equally disheveled. Impulsively, she leans forward and kisses him, just a soft press of her lips to his. When she pulls back, she locks eyes with him.

"I'll see you later," she promises, stopping down to grab her coat, and he nods sadly and murmurs a goodbye as she leaves.

* * *

Katniss jogs up the front steps to Peeta's house, her feet swift and purposeful. She's supposed to have dinner with him tonight; he texted her late afternoon, a couple hours after she left his bakery, to apologize again for what happened:  _That's really not how I wanted our first time to go. You deserve better._

She felt bad that he was carrying all the blame on his shoulders. He hasn't had sex in a couple years, and neither has she. She was too impatient and embarrassingly horny; she shouldn't have pushed, should have taken the lack of condom as a sign, but he was finally  _there,_ finally on the same page with her, that she'd almost been afraid of losing their place together, the moment slipping through her fingers. It was dumb, but then again she's always been impulsive and reactionary. It'd just been such a relief realizing that all along it was Delly who'd written his name in that bathroom—as a joke, or a drunk, misguided wingman attempt—all the pressure drained out of the act, leaving in its place nothing but instinct and an insufferable want.

She fretted all afternoon about their first time in the bakery, actually starting to wonder if, maybe, there was a slight possibility that they aren't sexually compatible, that the chemistry isn't there. And then she realized how ridiculous she was being. That chemistry's there,  _was_  there, however briefly, the second he filled her, up until the moment he came. He just...finished too quickly. And really, that seemed more of a testament to how excited he was to fuck her, how good she made him feel.

So why was she being so stupid about it?

She's going to fix this—right now, as she doesn't even bother knocking on his door. Her senses are immediately assaulted with the aroma of garlic, and she tracks him down to the kitchen. He startles slightly when he looks up to find her standing in the doorway. "Oh, hey, I didn't hear you knock," he starts. "I'm making some chicken—"

"Peeta, I don't want to eat right now," she states bluntly. "I want you to fuck me."

He stares at her mutely, his eyes round, then he silently turns toward the stove and flips the burner off, moving the pan off the heat. "Okay," he replies, facing her.

She tucks her hair behind her ear, anxiously. "Is that too aggressive? I just feel like—we've got the awkward first-time sex part out of the way, and I just want to get to the good stuff. Right now," she explains.

"Okay," he says again—solemnly, even. "I agree. I would like nothing more, as well."

"Okay," she exhales, relieved. But they just stand there, sizing each other up, and he finally chuckles.

"This got awkward again."

She smiles. "Well, I only rehearsed up to this point," she laughs, exasperated. "It's your turn. I'm not really good at this."

"I don't know, you seemed pretty good at it this afternoon," he challenges, an amused glint in his blue eyes, and she's glad for this, glad they can so easily find the easy, natural rapport they normally have. But Peeta doesn't leave her hanging, closing the distance between them and smoothing his hand through her hair before tipping her chin up to kiss her. It's sweeter, less hurried and frantic than the ones shared in his bakery earlier, and Katniss runs her hands up his chest to wind around his neck, pushing up on her toes to taste him more eagerly.

His hands trace the curves of her back and hips before settling on her ass; she's not prepared for him to scoop her up as effortlessly as he does a sack of flour, and she hooks her legs around his waist as he secures his right arm under her thighs to hold her in place. Her face is angled above his now, and she sweeps her tongue into his mouth with renewed excitement when he carries her out of the kitchen.

But he pauses in the living room, breaking the kiss to laugh. "How do people do this in the movies? I can't see where the fuck I'm walking."

She snorts and dips her head to the left of his so he can see around her, using the opportunity to stipple kisses along his cheekbone and jaw. Her fingers thread through his hair, pulling at the roots of his curls, and she feels his hot, quick breath skirt across her bare neck, its own form of a kiss. It makes her shudder, and she busies herself with sucking on his skin until they're in his room. He shuts the door with his foot and sets her down on his bed. She stretches out flat on her back, and he climbs over her to follow, chasing her lips until he can capture them in another kiss.

This one is more urgent, needy, and she tries to pull his weight down on top of her, but he pushes up on his hands, reaching back over his shoulders to peel his sweater and undershirt off. She grabs greedily for his bare chest, her fingertips skimming his pecs, but he wraps his hands around her wrists and pins them to the bed on either side of her head. She lifts her eyebrows curiously, and he just trails chaste kisses down her torso over her clothes, down between her breasts and across her stomach. There, he nudges her shirt up with his nose so he can skim his tongue over her bare belly. Her abdomen clenches reflexively with a quiet gasp as he trails his tongue up, pushing the shirt to her breasts. Finally, he releases her hands so he can pull her shirt off entirely, and she lifts her shoulders and arms up to help him whip it over her head. She raises up on her elbows to hold onto his neck while he reaches around her back to unhook her bra, biting at his lips, then he throws the offending garment aside once it's untangled from her limbs.

Peeta pushes her back down into the mattress, her head sinking into the pillow, and she inhales against his mouth, sucking in the breath he exhales when he palms her breast. She arches into his hand, his large, warm palm, and he rubs his thumb back and forth over her nipple, which has pulled into a stiff peak.

She's almost upset when he stops their kiss, but then his mouth is wrapped around her other breast, his tongue licking her already tight nipple into an even more hardened point. "Oh my god," she groans, weaving her fingers through his hair to cup his head, to hold him there, to spur him on. His teeth catch on the pebbled bud, dragging across it, and his hand firmly kneads her other breast.

He's got her unbearably wet now, the insistent tingling in her clit uncomfortable. She needs relief. "Peeta," she sighs—whines, really—bending her knees to the ceiling to couch his body between her legs, and she presses up against his erection, seeking the pressure and friction she needs.

But his hand splays across her tummy, forcing her down to the mattress. He sits back on his heels, and she whimpers, pathetic and disappointed, until he mercifully unfastens her pants and makes quick work of them, throwing them and her flats off the bed. He's got her down to her panties now, and as he's sliding them down her hips and thighs, she's suddenly conscious of the moment, knowing this is the first time he's seeing her fully naked. She fights the shyness when he lets her feet drop back down to the bed, the soaked panties landing beside them, and he pushes her knees apart. She holds her breath, watching his face as he takes her in. She knows she's swollen and sticky and wet, but his eyes sweep up and down her appreciatively, and his nostrils flare with a deep inhale.

"Fuck," is all he says, but his tone speaks to so much more: awe and hunger and barely restrained need.

She's surprised when he scoots back farther on the bed so he can hunch over between her legs, his face only inches from her core. "Oh," she chokes out, fisting the covers around her. "Okay, you're gonna do that."

His eyes lift to meet hers, somehow bright and dark all at once. "Yeah, if you're okay with it," he hedges, pressing a kiss to her pubic bone, the action mirroring what he did just the night before.

She takes a deep breath and nods eagerly, her tongue sliding out to wet her bottom lip repeatedly. She aches even more now. "Yes, yes, absolutely," she says, her voice breathy and tight. She's not sure, but she thinks she hears a low chuckle rumble in the back of his throat, but the sound is lost the second he lowers his mouth to her pussy. His tongue slides up her folds, over her entrance, up to her clit, and she gasps sharply, her body bowing to follow the path. But he pushes her back down to the bed to anchor her there, and then he is absolutely devouring her. His tongue is everywhere, between her folds, inside her, around her clit, and her hands shoot out to grab at his hair, rooting there as she desperately tries to hold on.

"Oh fuck!" she keens, her hips rocking wildly against his face as he plunges his tongue into her, over and over. His thumb pulls up on her clitoris, opening her to him more, and he licks up to the swollen nub, flicking his tongue over it in quick, focused strokes—up and down, side to side, like he's testing what makes her scream the loudest. He finds it when he sucks her clit between his lips, and she's already writhing when he pushes two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly, pushing up against her vaginal wall. The pressure is too much, and she comes so abruptly and swiftly, her whole body bearing down around his mouth and fingers. She cries out, lurching off the bed and curling around him as her orgasm contorts and spasms her body, like she just needs to hold onto him or she's going to come unhinged.

"Oh my god," she finally gasps, slumping back to the bed with hard gulps of air, and Peeta laps at her, swallowing her arousal, the rough, slick pull of his tongue on her folds causing her to shudder and tremble with the waves of her ebbing orgasm still rippling through her. "Oh my god," she repeats, untangling her fingers from his hair to cover her face. Her skin is dewy and flushed, and she swipes the sweat from her forehead and upper lip. She thinks those are actually tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

When he's done between her thighs, satisfied with his work, Peeta lifts himself onto his knees. She feels zapped, sated, can only muster the energy to watch him dumbly as he strips down to his boxer-briefs. And then those are gone, leaving him naked and wonderfully hard.

"You're big," she observes weakly because it's the only thing she can think to say, her body already tensing with the memory, the feeling of him inside her only hours ago. She didn't say it before in the bakery, with everything moving so quickly, and she wants him to know it, wants to voice her approval, to stoke his ego. He laughs slightly, just a snort of air through his nose, and he leans over her, bracing his hands on the mattress.

"You're wonderful," he counters, and she lifts her mouth to kiss him. His lips are slick with her, his tongue tangy and musky, and she pulls on his shoulders, wanting the weight of him on top of her, then inside of her, but he resists briefly to whisper, "I can get a condom, I have a box here."

She just kisses him again. "I don't want to," she murmurs against his mouth, in between swipes of his tongue. "I like the feel of just you."

He settles between her thighs, and his cock is there, pushing into her. She plants her heels into the bed to open herself, to ease his penetration, and she inhales through her teeth, her stomach tightening as her walls grip him, hugging him.

"God, Katniss," he groans, rocking his hips to sink into her deeper, their pelvises flush, and then he pulls back to thrust into her, again, again.

"Fuck," she moans, dipping her head back, and she raises her hips to his, meeting him thrust for thrust. He sighs into her neck, hard, damp breaths as he starts moving faster.

"Fuck, you're so tight, so amazing," he pants, and he sits up suddenly, clutching her shins to his chest so her thighs are pressed together, like a vise around his cock. He pushes into her deeper, harder, his hips colliding with her ass and the backs of her inner thighs, the sides of her calves. Her breasts bounce with the rhythm of his strokes, and she tucks her arms under the pillows, stretching out her body in a enticing, leisurely pose, just for his benefit. He groans at the sight, his hooded eyes darting between her tits and her face, like he can't decide which one he wants to watch more. "You're so fucking sexy, Katniss. Sometimes I think I could come just from looking at you."

"Not yet," she begs, closing her eyes. "Just a little longer, this feels so good."

"Not yet," he promises with a growl.

Her earlier orgasm has her impossibly wet still, and his cock moves in and out of her with such ease. Each time he pulls out, he pulls out to the head, before pushing his cock back into her, all the way to the hilt. He bucks into her harder, faster, and the sound of their skin slapping together, his cock sliding through her wetness, just turns her on more. She moans each time he fills her, little gasps of approval and pleasure, like he's forcing the sounds out of her with the force of his thrusts. He releases her thighs and spreads them open, lifting up on his knees just slightly to fuck her more forcefully.

"Oh my god," she hiccups, digging her heels into the mattress to lift her ass up higher, changing the angle of his cock inside her. He grunts in response, watching his cock disappear inside her pussy, over and over. The head of his cock is rubbing against her wall, the ridges stimulating the sensitive area just right, and she tenses when she feels the flutter of her walls again, the telltale throbbing in her clit. "Oh fuck," she sobs right as another orgasm crashes through her.

"Fuck, you're coming again," he gasps, like he's surprised, grabbing her hip with one hand and using the other to rub her clit fiercely, which sends her spiraling even harder. He uses the leverage to pound his cock into her faster and then he's coming undone too, sinking into her as he comes with a rough groan. He holds her hips off the bed, easing in and out of her shallowly while he fills her up with his cum, and she closes her eyes to bask in the delicious swell of her climax. "God, I wasn't ready for you to come on my dick like that, I didn't mean to finish then," he sighs ruefully after a moment.

It takes her a moment to catch her breath, to formulate a response. "I wasn't expecting that," she whispers honestly. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, and he pulls out of her so he can lower her to the bed. She laughs airily, feeling delirious. "I've never come like that before."

He wipes a hand over his mouth as he cleans off the remnants of her first orgasm and his sweat. His eyes shine proudly. "Really?" he asks, licking his lips as he eases down onto the bed beside her, and she nods, still staring at the ceiling, feeling dazed.

"Yeah," she sighs, closing her eyes blissfully. They're quiet for a moment, just the sounds of their breaths filling the room as they come down from their highs. Finally, Katniss laughs again. "You know what, even if she didn't know it, Delly was right. Best sex of my life."

Peeta chuckles, his voice low and throaty but light. "Yeah? You planning on putting that on a bathroom stall?" His tone is teasing, lilting, and she smiles widely before forcing her mouth into a line, and she opens her eyes to consider him. She rolls over and props herself up on her elbow, pursing her lips thoughtfully. Then, she answers.

"No," she replies nonchalantly, and his eyebrows quirk. She smiles at him then, hooking her leg over his waist so she can straddle his hips. His hands settle on her thighs, and she braces her hands on his chest, lowering her mouth closer to his. But before she kisses him, she promises, "I'm keeping you all to myself, Peeta Mellark."

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't done a WIP in a while, mostly because I am terrible at maintaining a level of enthusiasm and interest required to finish a story, so we'll see how this goes! This was originally a drabble I wrote on tumblr inspired by a request from an anon, but my mind went a little wild with it and wanted to turn it into a longer story, though I don't anticipate it will be too long. Just a handful of chapters. I hope y'all enjoy!


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